


Meet in the Middle

by DerektheAwesome, tlzts



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Figure Skater!Harry, M/M, Niall!Niall, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Really Hayley is better than me, Turns into, barista!louis, hockey player!Harry, librarian!zayn, model!liam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2045553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerektheAwesome/pseuds/DerektheAwesome, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tlzts/pseuds/tlzts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee Shop/Hockey AU where Harry was a figure skater, Louis is a barista, Liam is an underwear model for Calvin Klein, Zayn is a librarian, and Niall is along for the ride. </p><p>OR</p><p>An AU where Niall and Harry are brothers, Louis and Zayn are cousins, and Liam walks around with next to no clothes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chills in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Derek: This fanfiction was written by both Hayley and I. Although we came up with the general idea together, we wrote different parts and conjoined the two. I will write in POV of Louis and Zayn, while she in Harry and Liam. 
> 
> I thoroughly enjoyed this first chapter, and I just want to thank Hayley for having fun with me. This is my first One Direction fanfiction, and I hope you all enjoy :) 
> 
> Hayley: Derek is insanely good at writing so I am thrilled to have the opportunity to write with him! 
> 
> While we are splitting the POVs, have no fear, Niall still plays a role. What we are hoping to create here is a realistic AU, one that shows how the boys don't have to simply be thrown together into a band just to prove they are connected; ultimately, they will always mean a lot to each other in any scenario, of any alternate universe.

**Louis**

5 more minutes. It was almost time for his shift to end. Once these last few minutes were up, he could take off his apron, hang it up, and then rush on home so he could get formally dressed for the event tonight. Sure, working at Roasted Beans was amazing and all, he made friends, but his main entertainment in his life was produced from judging. It almost sounded so superficial, but watching the figures dance their heart out in such majestic turns and twists, it was hard not to marvel at such beauty.

4 more minutes. He wondered if that one guy would dazzle the ice like he always did. He had a special affection for the ice, as if he was born to dance upon it. Louis would always cheer for him the most when he was in the stands. This would actually be the first time he got the chance to judge this competition in particular. All the other competitions he judged were minor ones, but that didn't change the fact that he knew how to critique the figure skaters.

3 more minutes. In came a customer. Louis hoped he didn't order anything that would take forever, he would internally shame the man who wanted to order coffee at a coffee place. Who would do such a thing? Especially to those who were about to get off their shift so they could go judge an ice skating competition. He ordered a simple Vanilla macchiato, luckily and he was on his way.

2 more minutes. Maybe he could clock out a little early and make it up by working a little overtime. His anticipation was surely building up, and he was starting to get antsy. He was already untying his apron and heading to the back room, grabbing his card so he could put it into the little machine that clocks his hours. there were two other people in front of him, putting in their cards to start their shifts.

1 more minute. Louis figured a minute was like a penny, there were plenty of them, so he could do without this minute, He pushed the card into the slot and left with his belongings, practically running to his car so he could drive on home. On arrival, he tossed his keys on the counter so he could grab them on his way out later. In his closet was a blue suit with corresponding blue pants. He wore this over a white button up. And just for added touch, he adorned a pink rose in the chest pocket of the shirt.

He grabbed his keys and quickly walked out the door to his car. He put the key into the ignition and sat back into the chair, taking the moment to take a breath, inhale all the feelings of excitement for what's to come. And then he backed out of his driveway and drove back into the city of Manchester to the ice rink stadium he knew so well. With his small car parked outside the building, he stepped onto the pavement and before he knew it, was tackled from behind in a crushing hug. In a deep tone and with smooth hands covering his eyes, the person spoke, "Guess who?"

Louis grinned extremely wide and turned around to hug his cousin and best friend in the world. "Zayn! I'm so glad you could make it! I almost forgot you were even coming to this competition. I think you'll enjoy this one. It's the City Championship after all, so I'm sure we will be pleasantly surprised."

"It's whatever, I'm just glad I get to see you again, feels like I haven't talked to you in quite a forever." Forever to Zayn could range from a few hours to a few days, and in fact, Louis had been working for the past few days, so he didn't get the chance to meet up with Zayn before the competition tonight.

"There will be time to talk later, I have to get with the other judges and secure my place. You know, Judge-y things and all." Louis beamed and hugged Zayn again before walking into the building and sitting down with the other two judges. One was a man who wore glasses and a full out tuxedo, had a well developed beard, and gave off the aura that he had been in this business longer than anyone in this building. The other judge was a woman who wore a lovely pink dress and had long brown hair that swooped down to the small of her back. She was also older than Louis and had a few wrinkles as well. He felt a little out of place, but it wasn't for long due to the fact that he traveled around with these two judges. Mr. Allen and Ms. Potts. It was the last one he didn't quite recognize. She was fair, pretty even. She was nearly as young as he and probably just as star-struck by Harry as him.

He settled into the chair and had his cards ready to write on to score each individual's figure skating. Harry Styles then appeared on the ice, poised and waiting for the judge's signal to start. He placed first in the Regionals, so everyone had very high expectations of him. Mr. Allen nodded to the man in front of them and Louis sat forward, head on his hands, watching every little twist and pirouette he did.

When Louis was able to announce the winners, he felt all the strength in his body seemingly go to jelly. He saw the name on the card...

**Harry**

Harry’s heart was racing.

He poked his head out the door of the locker room and looked around at the hundreds of people filling the stands, taking deep breaths. His division was the very last event, but seeing as he had won last year, he was definitely a “favorite” and many people wanted to watch him skate.

He began to lace up his skates.

As he concentrates on breathing, he thinks back to what Niall had told him when he had first expressed interest in the sport.

 _“You’re kidding me, right?”_ His older brother had joked, holding back a laugh as he watched Harry reach not for the hockey blades, but the sleek figure skates. Niall had smiled to himself and then admitted, _“I guess if anyone could attempt to make a sport that’s dominated by women even the slightest bit masculine, it would be you.”_

It was a few years ago now since Niall had said that and Harry remembers pulling out his classic smile he saved for special occasions, the cheeky one. He remembers looking at his older brother and thinking to himself, _‘Don’t underestimate me, Ni.’_

Truthfully, he stayed in it this long because he hoped the spectators would acknowledge this fact:

He, Harry Styles, or as he designated himself, “the other famous Harry,” was not to be underestimated.

It was this thought that motivated him and what he held onto as the minutes ticked by.

This was a major competition, the Manchester Championships, and if he could place in the top three, he would move on to the UK Qualifiers. He had pulled fifth to skate, out of six men and he was rather confident with his routine.

Practicing it nearly two hours every day did nothing to calm the nerves, though. All the warm ups in the world could not prepare you for those four and a half minutes the day of the competition.

Everyone knew that.

Still, he took some deep breaths and stood up to look at himself in the mirror, staring at his outfit: some regular black skating pants, a green V-neck top that sparkled and very nearly matched the color of his eyes, and because his hair was growing unruly, he had a headband to match the shirt.

“Hey, Harry. How ya feeling?” His coach asked, squeezing his shoulder.

“A bit nervous, but I’ll be okay,” Harry replied.

They walked out of the locker room and advice from the older man was being whispered into his left ear, “Remember to breathe before you enter the quad. Slow your speed on that second chorus to save your energy. Oh, and bring out that dazzling smile of yours. The crowd loves you and they’re certainly going to want to dance. There’s a fit judge up there, I might add; she’s about your age.”

He noticed Niall waving from his seat, giving him a thumbs up with a big grin, as the current skater was finishing up their program.

Harry looked over at the table of judges. An older gentleman and lady were sitting together on one side. He had been judged by them before, and their opinions of his skating seemed to change more often than he cared to admit. He caught sight of the brunette his coach must have been talking about and found her shyly smiling back.

But, his eyes grazed over to the boy sitting beside her… and whoever he was, he was gawking at Harry.

 _Was there something wrong?_ Harry questioned and looked down to see if his skates were coming untied or something.

No, nothing.

He met the unknown judge’s eyes and found the boy winking at him.

Before he could return it, let alone register that a cute boy was eye-flirting with him, Coach quickly whispered, “That’s Louis Tomlinson. He’s just filling in for some judge that couldn’t make it, but he’s quite good at it. One of his sisters skated or something, so he knows what to look for. I hear he’s a tough one, but it looks like you may have already won him over?”

He gulped, but silently thanked his coach for being oblivious to the fact that he was gay. People assumed he became a skater to meet all the girls, and by being too nice to supply the actual truth, it was almost too easy to hide. And Coach had meant it innocently.

The previous skater was leaving the ice and the announcer stated, “Next on the ice is Harry Styles, a crowd favorite and reigning champion... skating to a Def Leppard classic.”

Harry noticed Louis roll his eyes as ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ began to play. It was the cutest thing ever, he decided, but he had a routine to perform, and it was time to shine.

He saw Coach counting the steps as he worked through the footwork. He stayed tight during the twizzle sequence. Upon entering each of his three jumps, he took deep breaths and landed them with a precision he hoped was good enough for the technical part of the scores. The timing of his spread eagle matched the ‘Me’ of the second chorus as choreographed and the audience roared when he threw his headband into the stands and ran his fingers through his hair.

The song was almost over and he geared up for his signature backflip and took his final pose. As he took a bow, he saw Louis write something down and made eye contact with him. He swears he mouthed, “Not bad.”

He exited the ice and his coach rushed him into the locker room encouraging him and practically screamed, “The jumps and spins were perfect, Harry. Your artistry is hilarious, but you’re so confident out there. I think you’ve nailed top three for sure. I really do. So, let’s think positively. Now I know how much you love the song, but if you make it to the next round, as I’m sure you will, we’ve gotta tone you down. It will be much more professional there. I’m thinking you skate to a Russian piece, no words to sing along to, and your chest will have to be covered. I know, it’s a crazy thought.”

Smiling, he changed out of his outfit into trousers and pulled a jumper over his t-shirt. He grabbed some food from the snack table and waited for the results. A woman came up to him blushing, and said, “Harry, that was something else… and god, you’re even more attractive up close.”

She squealed when he thanked her and gave her a hug.

He was walking towards the wall where they usually posted the rankings when he felt a hand tap him on the back.

“Oh, hey Coach.”

“They’re doing results differently. Hell if I know why. Come on.”

Harry followed him and heard a voice saying, “Sorry for the confusion, folks. But, since we have a guest, Mr. Louis Tomlinson, filling in, we thought it would be fun for him to announce this last flight since he was a part of the judging panel.”

Harry bit his lip, watching Louis call out third and second place. The boy who had to be around his age was on the smaller side but that attitude of his surely made up for his height.

“And the winner is… none other than Harold Styles!”

Harry chuckled and walked over to Louis to receive his medal. He whispered, “It’s just Harry actually.”

Louis gasped, “Sorry!” And it was the cutest thing Harry had ever witnessed. It made him forget how to use words.

When Louis went to place the gold medal around his neck, Harry was more than distracted. Sure, he was heading to the Qualifiers but that was the furthest thing from his mind.

Louis tapped him, making Harry lower his head and giggle, “Oops.”

Louis seemed to be in a daze as well and when Harry raised his head, all he could get out was a playful, little “Hi.”

And, in that instant Harry realized he was willing to do whatever it takes to hear that beautiful boy speak to him again.

**Liam**

Liam had two things he wanted to accomplish that day.

And he was going to do both things in his Batman compression shirt and his favorite pair of jeans.

For one, he wanted to go for a jog later around his neighborhood, maybe even go to a fitness center, which is why he was wearing the shirt, just in case. It had an uncanny ability to motivate him, not to exercise, but to keep him focused enough to get him to a facility where he could exercise. He had a pair of running shorts in his car as well should he find himself near the gym.

Currently, he was simply going for a drive. He had a habit of getting inspired to do something and then somehow getting distracted along the way.

He wasn’t planning on stopping by the ice rink but it was on the way to a coffee place he had been hoping to try for quite some time. He heard people raving about “Roasting Beans,” and today was looking like it would finally be the day he could order a nice drink and see if it could become a quiet, cozy place where he could relax.

He was wondering what the difference was between a latte and a cappuccino when he got distracted by the nearly packed parking lot in front of the rink.

Actually, now that he thought about it… figure skating meant loads of girls and their mothers, right?

See, the second thing he wanted to cross off the list was passing out fliers. No one else had been willing to do it, and he had more than enough time so he generously agreed.

He had already handed out more than half of the little blue slips to promote the upcoming Fashion Show that, yes, he would be featured in.

Women loved clothes and men, so when they’re combined, that’s rather exciting. Shirtless men are even better.

But, Liam wasn’t modeling pants or shirts. Nope, none of the typical stuff.

He and the rest of the company were modeling Calvin Klein underwear and he was one of the youngest men there with a fresh face and kind eyes.

As he reached for the door to the rink, he realized how inappropriate it would be to invite what he assumed would be a room full of teens to the show… and older women would remind him too much of his mother.

That would be weird.

He shoved the invites into his pocket and decided to go in to grab an energy drink for his work out later so it would not be a complete waste of a trip. He was already there, steps away from the rink side café, so ‘Roasty Beans’ would just have to wait another day.

He felt a breeze rush through him as he pushed the door open.

_Duh, it’s a damn ice rink. With ice. It’s gonna be cold._

He heard music playing from within the glass doors and saw a sign with names and times and a handful of songs, some of which he vaguely recognized, and then some foreign ones with melodies he wouldn’t dare guess at.

He saw a second sign with bold letters. **COMPETITION IN PROGRESS. Please be respectful upon entering.**

 _Ahh, so that’s why there are so many people here,_ he thought.

He was seconds away from answering his growling stomach with a cheeseburger when he saw a male skater take the ice.

 _That’s something you don’t see every day._ He quickly made his way to the doors and carefully shut them without making a sound. Looking around, there were a couple seats scattered here and there, so he took the closest one.

It was a bit chilly, but not too unbearable, so he decided he would stay to watch one or two skaters and then sneak out between performances because surely, the applause would drown out any sound the door might make.

**Zayn**

After leaving Louis, Zayn walked into the stadium's entrance and took his spot at the top of the seats. Down on the ice ring, people in leotards came and went, each doing some type of spectacle that Zayn sees only a few times out of the year, but each time it felt quite new. _I honestly should come out here more._ He thought back to his train ride from Bradford to Manchester, a plan to ambush Louis without telling him he had arrived.

 _Louis is going to be ecstatic when he sees me._ He sat in a seat with a newspaper in hand. The paper was just for show though, he was too lost in his own thoughts of celebrating with Louis when he got the chance. The paper hid him from any confrontations as he wasn't exactly an outgoing person willing to strike up a conversation with just any random stranger.

But that logic definitely did not apply to him in the stadium. He felt as if he could cheer with the crowd and be a part of one mutual thing. It was special to him. When he took consciousness once more and looked down onto the rink, he noticed that Harry was prancing around.

 _Ah, Harry. Louis never shuts up about him. The way his curly locks bounce around when he hits the ice perfectly. The way his legs extend and spin, meeting his hands, it seemed almost doll-like or from a cartoon, because these moves were inhuman. It made sense why his cousin would fall for such a guy. Though he would never admit it. He most often gives him a perfect score, congratulates him and scampers off. But it's justified,_ he thinks, due to Louis' lackluster love life. Louis was so invested in school, he never made time to go out on a date, or when he had time, he claimed he had some other college project he had to get a head start on, or if not that, it was a ice skating competition he just _**had**_ to go see. Zayn felt bad for him, couldn't imagine a life that felt so...dead.

It wasn't until a few minutes into Harry's set that his eyes started to drift around. After seeing about twelve other people perform, he needed a break. It's not that he had a small attention span, but figure skating was not one of his past times like his cousin. So when he looked around his seats, about to stand up to leave for the restroom to splash water on his face, he noticed something very odd. He actually was surprised he didn't take notice of it before, or really anyone took notice of it. Of him.

A man with short brown hair sat down a row and over to the right of him. But what he was wearing was what caught him off guard. This person was wearing a compression shirt, one with no sleeves and jeans. _Jeans. Did he not have any sense of temperature at all?_ His eyes narrowed in focus on this individual, studying him in an attempt to figure out just why exactly he was here. He stuck out like a sore thumb now that he noticed him. The seat next to this man was empty and Zayn felt an itch. It bothered him greatly, but he was a stranger, he knew nothing about him besides the fact that he can withstand cold temperatures amazingly. Not to mention, looked good doing it.

But something inside told him that he should approach this person, at least see if he's all right. _What if he's cold? I could let him warm up with my jacket at least until the end of this._ And that's what settled it. It was merely out of Samaritanism. Zayn stood up and took off his jacket and stepped down a row and sat next to the guy with short hair. Zayn had a jumper on, so he could be just fine without the jacket. He nudged the man and offered up his jacket, trying to not speak for fear he may say something utterly stupid or nonsensical.

"No, thank you, I couldn't possibly take your jacket." The man waved it off and God, he had the biggest, softest, brown eyes he had ever seen.

"I insist then, I'll be fine. You have to be cold. It's like 64 degrees in here. I'll manage." Zayn practically pushed the jacket to him and with a chuckle, the man adorned the jacket. "I'm Zayn," He said with a smile.

"Liam," the brunet smiled back wider.

Zayn couldn't help but be curious, and he cursed himself for being so invasive so quickly. He thought he had more restraint than this, but he felt as though it was justified to talk to someone you just shared your clothing with. "Why exactly aren't you wearing anything thicker?"

"I didn't think I would need it. I feel just fine, now a little warmer, thanks to you."

Zayn turned his head back to the ice, Harry just landed a perfect 720 spin in the air, his face becoming redder from more than just the cold air. There was a soft silence between the two of them.

But this time it was Liam's turn to speak, "Wh-What are you doing after this?" Kind of a weird question to ask someone you barely knew, but this person Zayn was happy with getting to know. And any plans he had scheduled, which were none, would have definitely been cleared.

"I planned on hanging out with my cousin who is judging down there, but that's about it." A pause for dramatic effect. "Did...you have something in mind?"

"Actually, yes. I thought I would hand out flyers to some people, Get the word out about a fashion show, y'know? I was going to spread them in here, but I didn't think it quite right to interrupt a magnificent show."

"Sure! I mean, y-yeah. That sounds lovely if you ask me. I have no qualms over helping you promote a fashion show. That is, if I am invited." Zayn smiled, hoping he could take this opportunity to see Liam once more.

"Well, I wouldn't just use you for my own good, now would I?"

When first place was announced, Harry Styles, go figure, Zayn walked out the rink with Liam and was handed some colored paper with big bolded letters. He didn't necessarily take note of what was on them, but instead followed Liam to a nice spot on the sidewalk handing out a paper here and there. Before he knew it, the papers were gone.

"Thank you so much, Zayn. This was such a big help." Liam pulled Zayn into a hug and wow. He was firm and strong and warm and..."Oh, here's your jacket back. I shall see you at the show soon!"

Zayn wanted to say something on the lines of "No, keep it, let it be a keepsake or wear it more often." But Liam was already jogging to his car. Before he could even think about how good his backside looked, Louis appeared out of the blue in his car, beckoning him to get in, claiming "It's starting to get colder," and "why did you take your jacket off?"

_Because, Louis, I had an amazing day._


	2. A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek: Hey-a everyone. Sorry for the long wait. I was in charge of this chapter, but with school coming back in, and recently something personal came up this weekend, I could not find any time to devote to this fic. For that, I am deeply sorry. HOWEVER, lovely Hayley here saved me and went ahead and typed up all my thoughts and ideas. So for this chapter and the next, give her a round of applause. :)
> 
> Hayley: I was in a writing mood this weekend. There is absolutely no way I could have written this chapter without Fireproof and Sam Smith on repeat. As Derek mentioned, I took all of his notes and this chapter resulted. 
> 
> Okay. So, read on for some Larry.

**Louis**

Today was going to be a great day. Louis was convinced of it.

He would be spending the day with his only slightly younger cousin, and then hopefully they would be doing something fun later, if he could persuade him, that is. But, when could anyone ever resist the smile of Louis Tomlinson?  _No one is immune_ , Louis chuckled to himself.  _Apparently not even **the**  Harry Styles._

He was currently sitting on the couch, waiting for Zayn to arrive so they could properly catch up and hang out, when he received a text.

 _‘Hey, it’s Harry. This is Louis, right? Just wanted to make sure you were still coming tonight?’_ Louis’ heart stopped beating because the curly haired lad had said he would text him, but he wasn't actually expecting anything.

 _‘Yes, it’s me. I’m not one to give out wrong numbers, at least not to boys with gorgeous, green eyes. About tonight, it all depends on my “plus one” really.’_ He considered deleting the part about the eyes, but a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he chose to impulsively send it.  _No regrets.._

He walked to the door and another text came in.  _‘I don’t think I like the idea of your plus one deciding whether or not I get to see you tonight. A little party never killed nobody, right?’_  Louis reread the words twice before opening the door, his hands a shaking mess. He resigned himself to the fact that he was about to do whatever it took to get Zayn on board with the plans.  _Zayn likes books,_ he realized. _I’ll offer him my whole damn collection if that means getting to see Harry._

“Hello, Lou,” Zayn said, chuckling at Louis.

“Come in. Sit. We have loads to discuss, Malik,” Louis ushered him in, and they both took a seat on the couch.

“You first,” Zayn offered.

“Well, let’s start with Roasted Beans-” Louis suggested, while his mind chanted  _Harry, Harry, Harry._

“Can’t you just call it RB’s? It’s shorter,” Zayn interrupted.

“No, actually. It sounds like that American fast food place, Arby’s. A-R-B-Y-S,” he explained. Now, his finger was drawing H’s on his leg.

“Oh, all right. Well, continue.”

“The job is good. Hours are great. This new guy that just got hired was pissed at me for calling him Tim instead of Jim. I think the highlight of my day is closing time when I get to walk out of there with a free drink of my choice. That reminds me: What goes perfect with coffee and baristas? Poetry and songwriters. We’re looking for someone to perform every Friday to bring in a crowd, if you happen to know anybody?”

Zayn shook his head, so Louis continued, “We’ll probably have to put up posters or something. Okay, so enough about me for the present moment, as you know I can go on for decades. Tell me about your life recently."

“Well, it’s quiet. Not too many people. I stock the shelves when books are returned. Oh, I helped some uni student find a book for her research paper on elitist literary theories,” Zayn said casually.

“Right. Because it’s a normal day in the life of Zayn Malik to find resources that can help someone write analyses on elitist literary theories,” Louis snickered., placing emphasis on the last little bit.

“Funny, aren't you? My job has privileges. Just last week, J.K. Rowling came in and we discussed how dreams affected her writing process for the Harry Potter books,” Zayn remarked.

At that point, Louis was tempted to argue with his cousin about how unfair it was that he had an uncanny ability to run into famous people in his damn, off-the-radar library, while he was a barista at a fairly popular coffee shop, where the occasional C-list celebrity would pass by, but he had yet to run into anyone important.

Instead, green eyes flashed before him and when Zayn had mentioned Harry Potter, Louis could only concentrate on  _the other Harry._

“Fine, Zayn. You win. You always win. Your job is perfect and amazing,” Louis said nonchalantly, and then elated with thoughts of Harry, he started to wave his phone around. “Can we please get to the _real_  matter at hand? Which is literally the phone in my hand, Zayn.”

“…Okay,” said Zayn, with an amused tone.

“Harry.  _The_  Harry Styles. You know how I announced that he won at the Championships? How I got to adorn that lovely neck with the gold medal? I gave him my number and he texted me,” Louis rushed the words out.

“Huh, cool stuff. I’m excited for you. You’re practically jumping off the walls. Don’t think I didn't notice the second I walked in here, Lou. We've been connected by blood all these years. I can read you quite easily. But, what does it mean?”

“My dear, dear Zayn. What does it mean? He. Texted. Me. That means, we’re going out,” Louis pulled Zayn up off the couch, closed the door behind them, and headed towards the car. The plan was in motion, he was going to the party.

Once in the car, Louis had quickly sent a reply to Harry, simply writing ‘ _Should I be able to attend tonight’s festivities, I will need to know where I am going.’_ Not a minute later came the address, along with directions as well as a text saying,  _‘Indeed. Perhaps I will save a dance for you, should you be able to attend, that is.’_

With that, Louis gave control of his phone to Zayn and put on his seat belt with shaking hands. Zayn read off the directions and they were on the highway in no time.

Once they had an idea of where they were going, Zayn smiled over at Louis and teased, “So, Mr. Lost-in-Love, will you tell me where we’re going and what we’re doing now?”

Before answering, Louis allowed himself to return to the thoughts of the events after Harry had won. He had approached Louis in an interesting way, as if he, despite being taller and bursting with more outward confidence between the two of them, had seemed intimidated by the older boy.  _Louis? I’d like to invite you to a party I’m having on Friday. It’s to celebrate. I still can’t believe I’m going to the Qualifiers. I have a chance to go to Worlds. How crazy is that? Anyway, can I get your number and if you’d like to come, that would be awesome. You can invite someone as well,’_ Harry mumbled. Louis immediately nodded, although he had not heard half of what Harry had said to him because he was too busy admiring his face. He typed his number into the iceskater’s phone and thought little of it; if anything, Harry was just being polite inviting him. He wasn't going to text him. He was just excited to have his attention for those two minutes of conversation. He watched him walk away, smiling at his phone, and then it registered that he hadn't gotten Harry’s number. So, he’d have to wait for Harry to text him, if it ever happened.

And it did. Returning from his thoughts, he vaguely remembered Zayn asking him about why he was forced into the passenger side of Louis’ car, so he decided to rationalize his actions.

“It’s a party, to celebrate Harry’s victory. I know you’re not much of a party animal, but I’m sure you’d love adding to your collection of celebrity selfies. Harry Styles is kind of a celebrity. Maybe nowhere near J.K. Rowling or who else have you met, oh, Stephen King, but he’s a champion and he’s got a huge personality. He’ll be going to big places; everyone will know his name soon enough, trust me,” Louis said defensively.  _Maybe I should get his autograph before he gets too famous. I'll have something to remember him by._

“Lou, calm down. I’ll gladly take a picture with him. Hell, I think you would most definitely appreciate it more so than I would at this point, though,” said Zayn quietly, with a grin.

Pulling into the crowded driveway, Louis reached into the back seat and brought out two generic black masks. Zayn glared, “What the hell, Louis.” He handed one to Zayn and put the other on, stating, “It’s a masquerade party. Should I have mentioned that earlier?” Zayn sighed, putting the mask on.

They opened the door to a bunch of masked faces smiling at them. They fit right in actually.

Louis sighed, a bit frustrated.  _I didn't think this through. How am I going to find him with all these stupid masked people? Maybe Zayn can help._

Shrugging, Zayn looked to Louis and mouthed the words to the song that was playing, “I guess this could be fun. Let’s dance, haha.” 

 

**Harry**

_Louis. Lou. LT. Tommo. Beautiful boy._ All names floating around in Harry’s head. Niall had promised him a celebratory party for winning and told him he could invite anyone he wanted. Naturally, Harry ran over to Louis and tried not to look like an idiot. He didn’t talk to boys around his age much, save Niall, but that was a brotherly bond.

He considered their texts to be flirting, but had no clue where the older boy’s head was at, so it kept him on his toes. He had asked for directions to the party in an off-handed way, so that had to mean something hopefully. Not that he’d even be able to find the boy with the stupid masks.  _Why did Niall think this was a good idea?_

The one thing Harry held on to was that if he could talk with every single person at the party (and there weren't as many as there could have been), which was around forty people, then surely, he would find Louis eventually. If he was there. He hoped he would be here.

 _And hopefully his Plus One is just a sibling or parent. Yeah, that would make sense why he said his coming would depend on his plus one. Okay, breathe, Harry,_ he thought. But still, thoughts came to his mind that he would rather have not thought.  _What if his Plus One is his significant other? What if he has someone else and I misread him? What if I see him and he has a **girl** friend? **  
**_

The party was seeming to go well enough and was in full swing and most of the guests had arrived. Harry nursed a drink here and there through the night, but he was hoping to get in a practice session the next morning, so he wasn't planning on getting too wasted to be able to walk straight, let alone skate in a straight line.

He noticed other people were downing drink after drink though. He was worried about two men in particular. They were off to the corner and the taller one was clearly sober but didn’t look comfortable being there, based on his body language. The shorter one appeared excited over nothing, but he was slurring his words.

Harry was making his way over to them so that he could make sure they could get home safely, when Niall came into the room and with a sly smile, announced, “We’re going to play a game, in honor of the champion, wherever he may be.”  _Really, Niall? Are you drunk too? Can’t recognize your own brother, right in front of you? Haha._ He continued, “We’re gonna get some love happening, if you’re all okay with that. I want you to grab the person closest to you and give them a big, fat kiss. No questions until after. Have fun!”  _What the fuck, Niall. Where did that come from?_

He was finally in front of the two men and it was quite a laugh, if the one man had not been catastrophically drunk.

The taller guy leaned towards Harry and murmured, “Fun game, but we’re cousins, so kissing definitely won’t be happening here.” Immediately, the shorter one widened his eyes and pushed the apparent cousin out of the way and shouted in a slur, “IF ANYONE IZ GONNA KISS ‘IM ISS GON BE ME.”

Harry was trying to figure out what the man was saying, when lips fumbled onto his and a sloppy kiss was exchanged. Slightly confused, Harry opened his eyes to see the taller boy pulling the shorter one off of Harry and apologizing, “Sorry about him. He’s not like this, really. I’ll be driving him home now. Umm, sorry, again.”

With that, the party continued on for about another hour before the guests left… and the entire time Harry could only think about those two cousins and the weird kiss.  _Niall was to blame for it, but the weird thing is, the kiss was something else. It was different._  Sure, it tasted like alcohol and a little like an impulse that would later be regretted from the kisser’s lips, but Harry fell asleep that night thinking about those lips, wondering why they looked so familiar.

The next day, he woke up from a dream about the eyes he saw behind the mask of his mystery kisser.  _Why did they look familiar as well? Am I going crazy?_ He shook the thoughts away and went to the rink for practice. His coach would be meeting him later to watch a few run-throughs and let him know what to improve on. Until then, he had the rink nearly to himself. Well, it was him and two others.

There were a few people sitting in the stands talking, so he took out his iPod and played his Motivation Playlist, full of every song he has ever skated to as well as songs he wants to skate to one day and a few that he finds inspirational to persevere at those moments when he is overly sweating and his bones are aching to stop.

He began to skate and everything faded away. The stress, the sleepiness, the empty feeling he got occasionally.

He began to skate and in that moment, he forgot about the phone number (not to mention, the texts he saved in his phone) and last night (not to mention, the drunk boy’s lips).

He began to skate and it didn’t occur until much later that maybe the two were connected in some way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ziam is up next and should be up soon. I'm thinking maybe tomorrow or the next day? :)


	3. The Way He Looks At You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took a bit longer than I thought. Studying got in the way. 
> 
> I hope the length of this chapter and the Ziam makes up for it. :) 
> 
> Side-note: readers, old and new, whether you ship Larry and/or Ziam or maybe you’re just here for Niall, we love you all!

**Zayn  
**

Imagine a single moment on a random day, and this one moment ends up defining a big part of your life. Sure, it seems silly, trivial even, in the grand scheme of things. However, the importance of it actually makes it quite unforgettable.

For Zayn, that day is here.

And for Zayn, that moment will come soon enough . . .

He’s not aware of it, and had he acquired the ability to know the day’s events would turn out the way they do, he certainly would not be sitting here trying to comfort Louis, who is still very much hung over and currently in a pitiful, self-deprecating state. Zayn has tried a plethora of the greasy food the rink has to offer, the soothing voices of his audio books (because he’s a cliché librarian with a pathetic playlist that boasts nearly four times as many audio books and PDF files as songs), and countless hugs with the occasional pat on the back, but nothing has come close to cheering Louis up.

A quiet sob is coming from the older boy, along with a series of questions being mumbled at such a speed that Zayn can barely think of an appropriate answer before the next one is being thrown at him.

“I need to apologize. Oh, god. Should I apologize to him? Never pictured our first kiss going like that. I’m such a shit excuse for a human being, aren’t I? Fuck. Is he even legal? He’s gotta be legal. What if he’s not? Did I sexually assault  _the_  Harry Styles? Zayn, do not tell me I took Harry Styles’ innocence,” Louis pleads.

Zayn takes a moment to process all of the questions that just confronted him and calmly looks into Louis’ eyes and gently says, “Louis. I got you out of there before anything happened. I promise you the kid is fine. Don’t look at me like that. I occasionally say ‘kid’ to refer to people younger than me, and you have known me long enough to know that; now is not the time to get hung up on semantics. I don’t mean to imply that what you did was horrible and that you should be aware of his age or anything. He’s only a few years younger than us, and of course, he’s legal. You know this. Hell, you told me when I drove you home last night, muttering something about how “the two of you could get married because certainly age wouldn’t be a problem, but using a silly game as a means to initiate a kiss could be slightly problematic…” or whatever the hell you were saying,” Zayn mocked for half a second and then continued, growing serious.

“Now listen to me very carefully. Yes, you’re going to have to apologize, just for the awkwardness of the situation. But, you’re in no condition for that right now, and I can’t imagine it going well if all you’re concerned about is his innocence. So, here’s what I think we should do. Let’s take ya home so you can get some rest. If you feel better in a few hours, you can come with me to the fashion show. I know that could cheer you up. But, yeah, the Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles series can be put on hold for now. Let the recurring episode where the two of you somehow manage to forget how to use your words when you’re next to each other wait for another day, a day where Harry is not currently on the ice clearly training and honestly he doesn’t look like he would appreciate any distractions at the rate he’s going… and a day in which you are not self-loathing or near the verge of vomiting, yeah?”

They leave the rink and Louis has exchanged a self-critical demeanor for a resigned one. Zayn notes how unusually quiet he is, but believes it to be more exhaustion than anything else. Surely enough, the minute they cross the doorway, Louis is sluggishly making his way to the couch where he collapses and is out in seconds. Zayn covers him with a blanket and brings a cup of water over for when he wakes up. He also pulls the trash can over, should Louis wake up feeling sick from the nasty hang over. He closes the door silently and ponders whether he would still want to go to the fashion show if Louis would end up choosing to sleep through it.

The hours leading up to the fashion show are interesting ones, as interesting as curling up on his bed, rereading his favorite novel could get. When time had sufficiently passed and it was nearly time to head over, Zayn bookmarked his place at the start of the final chapter and was getting ready to ring Louis, when the phone buzzed in his pocket.

A text came in.

It was from Louis.  _‘I appreciated the set up when I woke up from my comatose slumber. Thanks, Zayn. I’m feeling loads better, and I will try to make the show. I won’t let a tiny head ache and my looming regrets get in the way of missing nicely dressed, fit models.’_ Zayn smiled and thought to himself.  _That sounds a bit more like the Louis I know and love._

With that, Zayn felt a bit more at ease with his decision of watching the fashion show, regardless of Louis’ attendance. Halfway through his novel, he had realized he wanted to go, just in case he might see Liam there and it would appear rude if he had not showed up after being invited. Seeing Liam held more priority than he initially realized as he felt his heart beat much quicker every time he thought of him. Now that he knew he wouldn’t be going alone, he figured it would be a plus. Louis could keep Zayn in check despite knowing next to nothing about how he felt for Liam, and Zayn, in turn, could ensure Louis’ attention be focused on something other than Harry Styles for a good hour or so, which would probably be healthy for his cousin, if he was being honest.

When he gets there, the first thing he notices is a mother and her two daughters sitting behind where Louis had texted Zayn he would be sitting. The mother is desperately attempting to get the young girls away from Louis as they start playing with his hair. Louis looks thrilled and must be feeling a thousand times better than he was earlier because he was not one to fake a sunny disposition even in the presence of young children.

It was a quiet existence, being cuddled between rows of books, but it was not a life he would ever trade up. Looking around, this terrified him. All of these cameras were foreign and, while not directed anywhere near him, were smothering him.  _How does one breathe?_ The show was not to start for another few minutes, but photographers were sat by the cat walk and they were already snapping dozens of shots of the Calvin Klein ads that were hanging as backdrops. Zayn knew the designs were to highlight the clothing, or lack of, for some of them were displaying their underwear collection, but he found it distasteful and offensive that the models’ faces were cut off or the pictures were taken from behind. Zayn argued to himself,  _Wow, they’re simply bodies. I wonder if those poor people are even treated like humans. Why am I here again? Ugh._

He smiled as he waved to Louis, and took a seat beside him. ”Glad you’re feeling better, Lou.”

“So am I. Now if I could just rid myself of thoughts of a certain green-eyed boy. But, here’s to hoping this show might do the trick,” he said non-committedly, but with a shrug nonetheless.

“Have you seen Liam at all,” Zayn hadn’t meant to ask.

“No, but maybe he’s running late or something,” Louis murmured.

The two girls, sitting behind him and Louis, started to poke at the boys’ shoulders. They had to be between the ages of eight and eleven, and simultaneously they turned around to see what they wanted, if only to amuse them.

The younger one looks at Zayn and whispers, “Who are you here to watch?”

Zayn kindly smiled and admitted,” No one, just looking at the clothes really.”

The older one chimed in, “We’re here to see our Dad. He’s one of the “older” ones, but he’s not even that old. He’s only thirty or something.”

“Hey! What did I tell you about that,” the mother started and the girl rolled her eyes in response.

Without missing a beat, the younger one continued to look at Zayn, with a shy smile, “Oh, well, we thought maybe you guys were here for a boyfriend…”

The older girl winked, “Unless you two are together?”

Louis snorted and Zayn blushed as they both said in unison, “No, we’re not. We’re cousins,” and then Louis teased, “Zayn here was actually invited to this by someone that could end up being his boyfriend.”

The girls squealed and seeming happy with that answer, they started chatting with each other in what Zayn could only describe as that special language siblings that really bond seem to share.

Zayn turned back around to face Louis and was about to gush about how cute that little chat was when the lights dimmed and music faded in. An announcer cheerfully spoke, “Let the Winter Collection by Calvin Klein begin.”

First out was a twenty-something named “Mark,” in casual wear, according to the announcer. He was wearing a pair of CK designer jeans and a spectacular white Henley. Louis nudged Zayn, looking pleased.

Next was a tall blond, who looked twenty-five at the oldest, and wore semi-formal attire. Dress pants with a matching shirt, and a blazer fit nicely and framed the man’s muscles quite nicely. Louis stared at the man’s shoulders and Zayn caught him blinking rapidly.

The following man was clearly older than the first two, seasoned but still could be considered timelessly attractive, and excited sounds came from behind Zayn. “That’s our dad,” they confirmed when he glanced back at them. He was modeling formal attire and appeared in a textured, charcoal suit. “A classic look,” stated the announcer. Nearing the end of the run way, the man caught his daughters’ attention and his confident expression melted into a look of fondness, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Only twenty minutes had passed, but Louis was thoroughly enjoying himself, as Zayn looked over to see his cousin eyeing the father in a suggestive way. The man had turned then and made his way back off the stage, right when the lights that were glowing on the run way began to fade out, and the main lights came on.

“It can’t be over already,” Zayn questioned and Louis also looked puzzled. He noticed some people scattering and a couple others that just arrived, taking seats.

The woman behind them was putting her things into a bag and telling her daughters to gather anything they had brought to occupy themselves as she explained, “They always do this. An intermission, but it’s not long enough for bathroom breaks, and you don’t want to miss the second part… trust me,” Zayn raised his eyebrows and she clarified, in a lower voice, “The second half is modeling underwear. And I obviously can’t have the girls seeing that. Family members that support the models with young ones usually leave at this part. But, seriously, enjoy. It’s… something else,” she muttered, with a slight blush coloring her cheeks. The girls gave Zayn and Louis a wave and smiles, and with that, they were left alone.

“Underwear. Calvin Klein. Obviously,” Louis couldn’t form sentences.

Zayn took a deep breath and the lights signaled that the second portion was about to begin. He would just have to prepare for this in these next couple seconds.

“And we’re back, ladies and gentlemen. Up first is Andy in stripped lounge pants…” Indeed, the brunet was sporting pants that seemed to lengthen his legs in a beautiful way and sans shirt… and Zayn realized the show was calculated. Like steps, or levels. If he was smiling this much at just this first one and these pants didn’t even classify as “underwear” to him, what was he going to do when the men in the actual stuff came out? Beside him, all Louis seemed to be able to say was “Those legs.”

Sure enough, the next man came out and Louis started to pant. ‘John’ was basically naked, save the red trunks that left little to the imagination. Zayn was even rather impressed.

“And for our final model, we’ve saved the best for last, folks,” the announcer began. Zayn frowned,  _this show is going far quicker than I was expecting._

But, oh. How Zayn’s jaw dropped when the announcer rambled on. He heard the words, more importantly the  _name_ , before he saw him.

“Here is our very own, Liam ‘Mistaken-for-Beckham-Constantly’ Payne, or as we at the company used to call him ‘Baby-face-Payno.’

And then he emerged.  _This wasn’t happening. No. Can’t be real,_ Zayn’s mind shouted at him.

However, his heart screamed back,  _it is real and he’s right there and he’s wearing classic black boxer briefs and he’s gorgeous._

Louis was frozen beside him, but managed to voice the only two thoughts that were coming to mind, the first being “Why the hell didn’t he tell you, Malik,” to which Zayn could only try to guess, and the second being, “Damn, he’s fit,” and Zayn was not about to argue with that.

Liam posed and shyly grinned, only to spin around and smolder at the photographers, which sent Zayn into something that felt a lot like heart failure.

He exited and the main lights returned, and with that many people cheered as they left.

Zayn felt delirious, almost out-of-body, disoriented and oblivious to his surroundings. Louis had convinced him that they should stay and “have it out with Mr. Payne, if only to ogle that body a second time.”

As Louis kept talking to himself, Zayn retreated into his own thoughts,  _maybe he could blame it on all the books. That they could be the reason for why he was always so cynical, when it came to love, that is. It just never came that naturally, that effortlessly._

He’d never be so bold as to chalk it up to fate but there was certainly a strength to it already (what he was feeling for Liam and he’d only just met him a few days ago), an unknown force guiding their eyes along to meet what felt like simultaneously at that ice rink and what do you know Liam and Zayn both have four letters… just like fate. Funny that. So, maybe he  _is_ rethinking it all…  

Zayn, mid-thought, sees Liam recognize him immediately and watches as he makes his way over to where he is standing.

Imagine a single moment on a random day, and this one moment ends up defining a big part of your life.

…and for Zayn, that moment has just arrived and is coming directly towards him. 

 

**Liam  
**

What comes to mind first is the memories, the aftermath. The sting of revealing his true self to the company and receiving unsympathetic stares in return, the initial rejection.

Only hours later, though, came the phone call, with an apology of sorts and a welcoming back that reassured Liam only a little bit, but the doubtful stares and the whispers behind his back were present and while not a new experience for him, was not typical from those that he had grown to consider as friends.

But, those memories get squashed the second he lays eyes on Zayn, the first guy that he could see befriending since… he had to open his mouth. Beaming, although he hoped it looked casual, he whispered, “You came.”

Zayn looked at him and bit his lip, “I came.”

The man with him interjected then, “Of course, he did. If you asked him to, he’d come anywhere. Wouldn’t you, Zaynie?”

Zayn immediately glared at the other guy, and apologized, “He’s my cousin, Louis. Don’t listen to him.”

Liam swears he hears Zayn groan under his breath, “Fuck me.”

It is nearly confirmed when Louis points out, “See. So, anyway. Liam, excellent job out there. Had you told dear Zayn here that you’d be IN the show, maybe we would have been more prepared. Nothing against you though, it was a pleasant surprise. Honestly. In fact, I work at this coffee shop, Roasted Beans… Maybe-”

“Really? I’ve been meaning to go there!” Liam interrupted, excitedly.

Louis cheerfully added, “Great. Let’s exchange numbers and the three of us can hang out or something. Or, at least you and Zayn. Because, as I was saying, you have some explaining to do. Actually, if you come in when I work a shift, I can probably get you a free hot chocolate on me.”

Liam, a little shocked to be making friends so suddenly, agreed, “Yeah, that’d be awesome. I’ll hold you to it.”

He noticed Zayn had been quiet during all this and looked at him for a brief second, only to see him staring down at his shoes. Louis took advantage of Zayn’s lack of eye contact and chirped, with a wink, “Or, you know, you could hold it against Zayn. Because he might enjoy that,” Zayn coughed and crossed his arms, clearly uncomfortable, so Louis comforted, “Hey, you know how I am. Just trying to lighten up the mood,” he turned towards Liam then and leaned in, “He can be a bit of the sulking type. Just gotta get him out of his own head.”

They exchanged numbers then and Zayn finally moved closer to Liam, looking straight at him. “See you tomorrow,” he asked, and as Liam nodded, saying, “Yeah, we can text to figure out the time,” he watched Zayn pull Louis away like he couldn’t move fast enough. Quite obviously, Louis had made Zayn on edge, but Liam did not realize that. He thought back to his memories and pondered whether the encounter was cut short because of how eager he may have come across.

Doubt was replaced soon enough by anxiety as Liam waited for Zayn to text him that night. _Sure, I could text him, but after today, I’d rather not seem too forward,_ he acknowledged.

He decided to calm himself down by taking a shower and when he was finished, the timing was perfect. He checked his phone and he saw he had one message.  _‘Hey, it’s Zayn. How does 1 sound?’_ It took everything within him to not send back,  _‘Absolutely perfect.’_ He wasn’t going to get ahead of himself and he knew this game of texting all too well. He had to sound reasonable and collected, so he replied, ‘ _Sounds good.’_

He stared at his phone, trying to cleverly find a way to continue the conversation when another text came through. He opened it,  _‘Today was fun.’_ He replied quickly, without giving it much thought,  _‘I’m glad you could come.’_ A few moments later, a final text buzzed in,  _‘I’ll see you tomorrow. :)’ _Liam set his phone down then and could nearly feel the smile directed at him through the emoticon. He went to sleep happy that night.

At noon the next day, Liam’s thoughts were racing.  _Sure, Zayn is insanely attractive, but honestly, I could just use some friends right now. I need some good friends. He and Louis seem like a terrific start. Yeah, they can be good friends. Good friends, good friends, good friends,_ he repeated the mantra until it made more sense to him than the beautiful color of Zayn’s eyes.

He could do this. He was finally going to check out that damn coffee shop and see if it held anything to its name, and even if it didn’t, he might as well get used to it, right? If his new friend worked there, and his other new friend was the cousin of the other friend, then he would be stopping in quite frequently, wouldn’t he?

As one o’clock approached, he made his way to the mini parking lot in front of the coffee shop. Only three other cars were there and he assumed one had to belong to Louis, and maybe Zayn’s was one of the others, but he wasn’t overly optimistic.  _This is in no way a date, Liam James,_ he warned himself,  _don’t you dare treat it like one. You’ll only disappoint yourself._

He caught sight of the sign, and oh, it was not what he had been calling it as of late. The sign boasted the best coffee “ROASTED Beans” had to offer.  _Roasted. Roasted, not Roasty, not Roasting. Roasted,_ Liam decided to commit to his memory. He walked in, the bell on the door ringing, and he took in the quaintness of the coffee shop. Some tables in the middle, couches lining the walls, and the small counter perfect for maybe two or three workers at most. He couldn’t imagine this place getting busy, but he had passed it on weekends before and seen a line of people going out to the sidewalk beside it multiple times, so clearly they somehow manage.

Louis was at the counter, playing a game on his phone, but his eyes lit up when Liam had walked in. He nodded at him and then flicked his head towards the right so that Liam could follow his line of sight and see what he was nonverbally telling him to notice.

A girl was sitting at a table, typing up a paper on her laptop, clearly a student, with a Manchester University book bag hanging on the chair behind her. But, beside her sat Zayn. He was flipping through the pages of a book the girl handed to him, and he was discussing something with her, clearly intense whatever it was, and they both looked fascinated with what the other was saying.

 _Okay,_ Liam thought,  _so he is here… Why is the girl here though? Louis, what are you trying to tell me? Oh, god._

In that moment, Zayn caught sight of Liam standing there and seemed to wrap up whatever he was saying to the girl and then wrote something down in her notebook. She smiled and shook his hand, and then after collecting her things, she walked out, politely smiling as she passed Liam.

He saw Zayn get up and they walked together towards the counter.

“Hey,” Zayn said softly.

“Hey,” Liam echoed back.

Louis looked at the two of them in a suspicious way, like he knew a secret, and stated, “I’d tell Zayn here to give you some recommendations, but seeing as I already told you I’d cover your drinks, you’ll be thrilled to know you will in fact be getting our House Specialty hot chocolates. They happen to be our cheapest item, I’ll add, but the flavor is quality. Although, I’m paid to say that,” he admitted. Liam couldn’t help but laugh as he watched the barista prepare the drinks, thinking,  _these are good friends indeed, Liam. Don’t ruin it._

“Is it usually this slow,” Liam broke the silence, after realizing the other two were just staring at him.

“Sometimes, which is why we’re a work-as-needed place. If it’s this slow, only one worker is needed. That would be me today. When we get really busy, we call in for back up. There are four of us in total,” Louis said.

“Then, maybe you could join us, and take a break,” Zayn offered.

“I wish. But, protocol explicitly states I can’t leave the counter unless there is someone else to take over, or if any customers are in danger. So, unless I would catch something on fire, or if you two were to get into a heated argument and one of you decided to throw your beverage on the other, I must stand guard behind this counter, but thank you for the invitation. You two will be just fine keeping each other company, I know it,” Louis quipped.

“Always so sassy, Lou,” Zayn remarked teasingly, taking the now finished drinks and heading over to a table with Liam right behind him.

Liam sat opposite Zayn at the table, vaguely aware of Louis looking over in their direction every so often.

He decided to ask about the girl because that was easy and relevant, “Did you know her?”

“Nope. She jokingly asked if either Lou or I knew anything about 19th century poets and being a librarian, I happen to know a thing or two, so I was just helping her with that. Gave her the address to the library, if she wanted to look for any resources there and told her I would help if she ever came by,” he said.

“Oh,” Liam admired, “That’s crazy. Cool, I mean. I bet working at a library would be so fun.”

“Certainly quieter than flashing cameras and shiny run ways,” Zayn joked, with a hint of intrigue in his tone, “Tell me about your job, Liam.”

He sipped at his hot chocolate and began to overshare, “Well, I’m the youngest there. So, the freshest face, if you will? But, I don’t like saying that. The modeling is fine and the pay is nice. But, I’m not always the happiest there, you know? I’m kind of the black sheep,” Liam confided.

Zayn frowned, “How so?”

“I chose to come out to them a few months back. I thought maybe it would be a good thing, but they didn’t take it too well at first. I was ostracized by most of them, until they realized how much they needed me. ‘Baby face Payno,’ remember?”

Zayn stared at him, not saying a word for what seemed like an eternity. He finally spoke, “Oh my god, Liam. That’s awful. Why can’t the world be supportive? Why is that so difficult,” it seemed like his questions were more rhetorical and to himself than to Liam, so he just bit his lip and shrugged.

“Well, that’s absolutely horrible. I’m sorry on behalf of humanity. I know that doesn’t change anything, but at least know you’re not alone. I like men as well. And so does Louis,” Zayn said in the same way he might have spoken about the weather, and Liam was suddenly very aware of his heavy breathing and racing heart.

“Have you ever been in love, Zayn,” uttered Liam.  _Why did I say that?_

For half a second Zayn seemed shocked by the question, but he proceeded to answer, “I have not, but I think Louis is.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Harry Styles, if you’ve heard of him? He’s a skater over at the rink nearby.”

“You’re kidding me. Is he the one that won the competition last week,” Liam inquired and when Zayn confirmed it, he continued, “Wow… Louis, good choice!” Grabbing his attention, Louis smirked.

Zayn then lowered his voice, “I’m saying this in confidence, but I’m worried about Lou. He’s so consumed by Harry. He made a couple bad choices and it’s eating him away. I just want him to be happy and I think those two could be something great, but they need to talk it out. They need to actually do something about their feelings to get somewhere, you know?”

Oh, he knew exactly what Zayn was saying. He also realized he had cleverly evaded the question to talk about Louis’ love life rather than his own.

Well, if anyone was really going to break the ice, Liam could do it.

“I thought I was in love once. I dated a guy a year ago very briefly, but it ended weird. Over silly things. We weren’t together long enough, to even be exclusive, I guess. So, the relationship was experience more than anything else, I suppose. I wasn’t openly out then, though, either. Guess I made most of the problems myself.”

Zayn looked at him, empathizing and they shared a moment of eye contact and then a hug that seemed to communicate something more.

As customers started to slowly crawl in and it was time for Zayn to head to the library, they said their goodbyes. Liam watched Zayn walk out to his car and before doing the same, he went over to the counter, and said to Louis, “I think I might like him. A lot. Am I in trouble?”

“Not at all,” Louis promised, “have you seen the way he looks at you? In fact, if anyone should be worried, it’s Zayn. At least  _you_  know, Liam. It’s going to hit him, right in the face, when he realizes it. But, don’t you worry. I’ll help him along, if he needs it.”

For the first time, in a long time, what comes to mind first is not the usual bitter memories Liam has carried with him for the past few months. No, instead, what comes to mind is that today marked a fresh start.

He took a deep breath and the thought that entered his mind was refreshing.  _Time to make some new memories, ones worth remembering. Also, worth noting, the hot chocolate was truly delicious._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes for Qualifiers next chapter!


	4. Broken, not Incomplete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! Derek here, so I typed up HALF the fic in one night and I don't know WHAT happened, I guess I didn't save it, but I thought AO3 saved the draft no matter what. So here is the 2nd version which is obviously better than the first, the first draft is never the best anyways. 
> 
> Thanks to Hayley for constantly telling me that MITM needs its attention too, I really couldn't have a better writing partner for this fic.

**Harry**

 

He knew the ice like no other. The way his skates kissed the solid, yet fragile, ice was like no other. With Qualifiers coming up, he surely had to be at his best. Once he got past this round, it would only be up from here. It was hard to say what exactly was on his mind.  _Twizzle here, axel into a double salchow, careful there. Sit spin, skate into a spread eagle..._

Exhausting as it was, there were internal motives he had going for him. First of all was quite obviously the pride he would feel of having come thus far, being able to tell his Mum and Gemma; secondly would be continuing on to the Semi-finals and eventually the Finals; and lastly, how could he forget, would be seeing those glistening blue eyes once more. Being able to smile into the crowd, knowing that the smile would be for him, although the crowd wouldn't know that. 

He landed that salchow sort of shakily, he would have to work on that. Albeit he had been at this since six A.M. and now it's..where's his phone? He needs to get off the ice, take a breather. Four P.M. Lovely. Yes, he has put in a total ten hours into this routine, he could only hope that the judges would love it. His coach came over and patted him on the back, congratulating him and making note to work on that salchow. 

\-- _Flashback--_

"I've also decided that the piece you will be skating to will be Le Cygne. I know it will be an amazing piece to add to your repertoire, I just know it, Harry." He knew the piece really well.  _The Swan_ , as it is also known, is truly a really beautiful piece; the only worry he has with it is the meaning behind the piece. He never thought himself to be superstitious, but with such big events coming up, he had to be slightly skeptical. When a swan dies, it is said to sing out its "song," which is supposed to be really beautiful, kind of like a dying breath, but graceful and sweet. 

"You should get to work on it now, you're in for a day's worth of work, and now is a better time than any."

\------------

Harry left the skating rink, many thoughts weighing on his mind. And it wasn't truly until he got home and set his stuff down by the door, knowing that he would have to pick it up again on his way out, that it was in fact tomorrow the competition for Qualifiers would take place. How had he forgotten? Surreal as it was, he almost wanted to go and take his stuff to continue practising. However, his bed was so comforting, he could just lie here, spread out among the comforter.

His mind drifted off, most likely in spite of all the circulating thoughts in order to sort them in a hierarchy of importance. Top of his list was the competition. He played the moves through his head, each twist and jump synonymous with the ice. Next was the celebration, and he could be shooting a little far ahead of himself right now, but what are the odds of him losing? Besides the point, he would have to gather some materials; just a few because it was only Qualifiers. The big celebration would definitely come in if and when he won _THE_ Championship. To be among the ranks of famous ice skaters was a fancy of his even at a young age. 

He almost fell asleep when a sound erupted from his phone beside him on the small table. He blearily reached out for it and looked at the fuzzy screen. Rubbing his eyes, he saw the message on the phone was from Louis.

_Hey, are you still practising? I don't mean to interrupt, but I just wanted to wish you good luck the day before the competition._

Smiling to himself, he typed out a reply of his own. _No, I'm home currently, was about to fall asleep before someone amazing texted me._

A reply was quick on its way into his phone, blatant that Louis had been waiting on a text, but Harry wouldn't say anything about that.  _Oh? And who would that be? And why aren't you texting them instead of me?_

_Quite obviously because he has these sparkling blue eyes and the cutest smile and I just so happen to be texting him right now._

_Flattery just might get you somewhere one day in life, Styles. However, I can't say I have enough money to bribe the judges, so if that was your intention, it was a lost cause._

_You have me all wrong then, Tomlinson. Surely I should be able to just compliment someone who is indeed compliment-able._

_Then I accept the compliments for what they are worth. But don't you go thinking that you get off scot-free, your curls are what clouds are made of and your ice skating skills are unmatched._

Harry definitely could not hide the smile from his face and time seemed to get away from him. The last time he saw the clock's red numbers, they displayed a time of "11:30."

\------------

There are those nights where you get no sleep, some sleep, a perfect amount of sleep, and too much sleep. To any normal person that didn't have a deadline of any sort, Harry would have had the perfect amount of sleep. However, this was not the case when he was already strapped for time. He had woken up twenty minutes before the entire competition started and he swore that he would be one of the first people to go. It would just be his luck. He quickly ran to the bathroom, to take what could probably be the Guinness World Record for quickest shower. He planned that he would just wear something to avoid public nudity and change into his outfit when he got to the stadium. 

His outfit, definitely one that would characterise his standard skating style, is a light purple in colour with glitter sparks covering the torso and matching pants with black skates. It didn't show much skin, due to his Coach thinking that it would have been unprofessional, and he could agree to a point. The outfit chosen was the happy medium they could agree on, even with the colour choice. Albeit, the colour shouldn't have mattered but Harry couldn't deny he saw something frown in his coach's face, the eyes or the mouth...just something.

Soon he was in his red Volvo S60 once more, except this time with wet hair, the windows down, and heightened blood pressure. If he were that of an elderly person, he was sure to have a close encounter with a heart attack.  _Myocardial Infarction_ , he remember a friend of his telling him. Throughout the rush of things, his mind settled on something of little importance and he began contemplating just why the medical field had to have a second language. Why not just "heart attack?"

He checked his watch, holding a hand to his forehead in regret. 10 minutes late. If it were already his turn, he just knew that we would have been disqualified. Swallowing hard, he parked the car and jumped out, grabbing his bag of clothes and running into the stadium, finding a bathroom and changing into his outfit. Tight as it was, he didn't really care at this point. His hair had air-dried and looking in the mirror found that the "fan" effect was working very well with his hair. Harry made a mental note to do this more often if he could actually find the time.

He ran into his coach who seemed to be pacing near the ice, heavily frustrated and very visibly upset. He cringed inwardly and noticed another skater already had taken to the ice, halfway through their set. He braced himself for the worst and cautiously approached his coach who took him by the shoulders and wow Coach had major hand strength. He could feel as though the squeezing would most definitely lose bruises, but that was low on his list of worries.

"Where. Were. You." Every word stressed in a tone of anger Harry had yet to see of his coach.

"I..I woke up slightly late, my alarm had not gone off, but I hurried here as fast as I could." He could see his coach breathing hard, but gave a sigh of relief and Harry felt overjoyed.

"You are right around damn lucky your name hasn't been called. Just lace up and...do your best." His coach had walked away pinching their nose in frustration and Harry immediately got onto the ice with his skates on and sure enough, his name was next up in the randomised order. 

The brunet took to his place in the centre of the ice, assuming his starting stance and heard the famous notes of Le Cygne, completely blocking out everything else in the stadium. He hadn't even though to see if Louis was here or if Niall had come to support him.

Gracefully he hit the axels and twizzles with ease. The only part he was any at all worried about was the double salchow. But he had done it enough times that he had trusted the ice and his skates. He steadied his breathing, knowing the moment in the music where he would move into the difficult jump.

One axel, two axels, double salchow..............

 

**Louis**

The older lad sat among the stands, Zayn to his side talking about one of the newest releases by one of his favourite authors. Something about two people who were helplessly in love but didn't know it and teen angst, etcetera. What he was focused on was the ice and the lack of a certain Harry Styles. One skater had gone, two, three, the fourth one was going and there was only one other skater down there who hadn't went and they certainly weren't the person he was hoping for. 

He turned to Zayn with worrisome eyes that not even someone so engrossed in their novelist talk could ignore. Zayn had taken a quick glance down to the ice and saw right away just what Louis was worked up about. "Don't worry, Lou. He'll be here. He wouldn't just quit out on something as big as this, you know this."

Louis still couldn't help but have a foul feeling in the pit of his stomach. One of those where you just know something was wrong. But as if he had found the cure to cancer, his eyes lit up with such a sunny brightness when the purple-studded man walked onto the ice and the music started. 

Things were fine. He had nothing to worry about. That was until he was on his feet and a gasp had erupted from the crowd. His own hand finding its place, covered over his mouth. The crowd seemed to fall silent, flabbergasted by what had happened down on the ice. Louis was already making his way down the stands, another blond lad was already sliding on the ice, no skates or anything. He swore he was sort of familiar, it was all a haze. Louis stopped at the glass pane and structural barrier the only thing separating him from the ice itself. Time came to a standstill, everything moved so slowly, the pace of a snail. The paramedics had ran in as if they were actors from  _Baywatch_ on the beach, the painful screams from the brown-haired figure skater were reduced to a low volume and the lights in the stadium itself seemed to have been dimmed. 

Then everything sped up. Too fast for Louis to keep under control. Harry was on a stretcher, the blond right next to him. They were getting in an ambulance and were gone from the building. He heard the aghast people behind him. The muttering and whispering of "Did you see that?" and "He broke his ankle," and "What happens now?" Zayn had caught up to him and wordlessly pulled him out of the ice rink and into the chilly air, sitting him in his car and getting in next to him.

Zayn waited for about 10 minutes until Louis decided to speak, "Zayn...We have to go to the hospital. Now." Louis was reaching for his car keys and began putting them in the ignition when Zayn put out a hand to stop him.

"You need to think about what just happened, and I know I'm not stopping you, but think of what you're even going to say when you get there. Harry just  _broke_ his leg. He's going to be pretty messed up about that."

Louis took a breather and met Zayn's caring eyes, nodding in acknowledgement. He would think of what to say on the way there, he had a small drive and wouldn't have any bother coming up with something. He turned the key in the ignition and sped off in the way of the nearby hospital, sure that it would be the one the red and white vehicle had kidnapped Harry and transported him to.

They arrived in a matter of minutes and Louis all but rushed inside to the reception desk, asking where he could find Harry Styles all too quickly that his words mangled together. "I said, where is Harry Styles' room, I'm a really grand friend of his."

The nurse scrunched his face at the slight attitude he was receiving from the barista, but nonetheless told him that he was found in room 311, the sixth room on the left on the second floor. He almost punched the button to the elevator and when it took just too long to arrive, he took to the stairs, which he deemed a bad idea when he was out of breath on the third floor. 

 _'Mental note to work out more.'_ 301, 303, 305, 307, 309, yes 311. The door was open and no one seemed to be inside. Harry's foot was elevated on a contraption Louis couldn't put a name to, one of those pulley-type things that holstered a foot or arm when it was broken to prevent a haematoma from forming too quickly. Louis knocked on the door politely and walked in quietly, approaching the bed with subtlety. Harry seemed to be sleeping right now. Must be medicine induced, he deduced.

"Hello mate! Come to see Harry have you?" The sudden voice made Louis nearly jump out of his skin and when he looked to find the source of it, behind him was the same blond lad he had seen disappear with Harry back at the stadium. "Niall, nice to meet you."

Louis nodded to Niall and it makes sense now. Harry talked about his brother being in town and Niall was his name. The two looked nothing alike though. He could only assume that their parents must have drastic differences as well. "Louis," he replied.

"Oh, YOU'RE Louis! Harry almost never shuts up about you. I know I'm his brother and all and that I should support him and listen to him and all that, but a man can only take so much of hearing about one person." Insult aside, Louis felt his face grow a little warm.

"And I'll keep talking about him if I so choose to. If you don't mind, it'd be nice to actually talk  _to_ him, if you please, Nialler."

Niall briefly stuck out his tongue and walked out of the room and Louis turned around to the now awake Harry, smiling to him despite the injury that was suspended to his right.

"Guess I should have had more practice, huh? I knew that jump would be too hard."

"I think you did a massively great job out there. Maybe one of your best yet minus the whole accident," Louis tried to make best of this situation and knew it wasn't going to exactly be easy.

"Maybe, but what now? I mean, I have a broken ankle and I'm not so sure I exactly want to go back out into ice skating. I've never  _broken_ anything on the ice." Neither had Louis. He hadn't ever broken a bone in his body, sprained a few things but never broken. Harry continued taking the silence from Louis as a cue to continue. "And if I can't figure skate, what will I do for the rest of my bloody life?"

"A broken leg isn't the end of the world, Harry. You'll be able to walk again before you know it."

" _Skating_ , Louis, I still love the feeling, but I have decided I don't want to go back in the world of figure skating. It just wouldn't feel right to me."

Louis could feel the frustration emitting of both of them the injury frustrating Harry in terms of career and Louis because it stopped Harry from doing what he loved. All of the sudden it dawned on him. While it was uncommon for figure skaters to break bones, it wasn't all that uncommon for hockey players to get some sort of injury. They were still on the ice as well, so that fit Harry's prerequisite. 

"What about Hockey, Harry? I'm sure that would still be enjoyable to you. You'd be on the ice and be a part of a team as well." seeing as Harry didn't quite get the connection due to his confused face, he continued, "I had a friend who went through a similar injury playing football and he thought his own life was over. Instead, after about a few months of sulking, he decided to move and go try the American football. I'm pretty sure he's on one of those big teams currently and having a blast."

Harry fell silent for a few moments in quiet contemplation. "Would you even be interested in watching me hit a puck around with a stick?"

"I believe that I could be interested in watching you stare at a brick wall, Haz. Of course I would!" That earned a smile out of the young adult. Just when Harry was about to retort with a comment of his own, a nurse came in with a clipboard and checked if it was indeed Harry Styles and told him, "Mr. Styles, you can be released now. Just make sure to stay off that foot for approximately six weeks. An additional week you should practice walking and at the end you should be as good as new." She smiled and walked out of the room, bringing back a wheelchair and carefully setting Harry in it.

Niall came back in to Harry in the wheelchair and had the biggest smile on his face. "Leaving already? This medicine sure is advanced." He looked up at Louis and nodded, understanding that he wasn't necessarily needed for anything more. "I see that he has you covered, so I will just let myself out." He let out a small laugh and left the room, Harry frowning at the gesture. 

"He's a little hurt. Nothing he can't get over, though. He means well."

"You sure, Harry? I can let him take you home, it'll be fine."

"No, it's quite all right. Niall will be sure to feel better when I get better."

"Okay..." With that, Louis wheeled Harry down the hall, down the elevator, and outside, trading the wheelchair for crutches on the way. Zayn was waiting for Louis outside the car, staring down at his phone and typing away. Zayn smiled to the two and helped Harry into the passenger side of the car and he himself got into the back. Besides Harry giving directions to his flat, the only words exchanged were that of the decision that Louis would sleep over in Harry's flat and have Zayn drive himself home and figure out the car situation, with that of Harry's being left at the stadium.

Once they arrived, Louis and Harry both were relieved that Harry lived on the first floor and toting him inside and onto the bed was no hard task. Zayn had driven off with Harry's keys in hand and once more it was just the two of them alone, this time in the security of Harry's flat. Louis properly propped up his foot on pillows and made sure Harry was the utmost comfortable he could be.

"Thanks for all of this, Lou."

"It's no problem to me, Haz. I'm glad I could help." Louis began looking around the room, noticing a picture of him and who he claimed to be his mother on the stand next to his bed. "Do...do you have any extra blankets, I suppose I'll just make a makeshift bed on the couch out there."

"Yeah, there should be one in the closet right there." And sure enough, on the top rack there was a blanket folded very neatly. Everything in this closet had its own hanger, very different from his own closet at his own home. He took the blanket and stopped at the door, hand on the light switch. "I suppose I should say good night." He threw the blanket onto the couch and turned back to Harry who had slightly sat up.

"Wait, can you come here for a second. I don't think something is quite right with my pillows." Perplexed, Louis came back and adjusted the pillows that were under his foot.

"Is that better?" Harry nodded and watched Louis head for the door. 

"Wait, these pillows too?" He pointed to the ones under his own head. Louis had to chuckle to himself but came over anyways, fixing that pillow too and left himself not but a foot away from Harry's face. Louis, still smiling, checked Harry all over and yes, he was quite comfortable. "Good night, Harry."

Harry was getting dangerously close to Louis' face and he felt himself getting closer as well. He could barely hear it and he wasn't exactly sure that he had heard it, but Harry had whispered a "Good night, Lou," before placing a soft kiss on Louis' lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am deeply sorry for the pain I have caused.


	5. You Make Me Happy, When Skies Are Gray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from the song, “You Are My Sunshine” and it will make sense by the end of the chapter, have no worries. 
> 
> Reasons why this chapter was ridiculous: 
> 
> 1) I second guessed basically every other line.  
> 2) I was paranoid over section length, thinking Liam’s would be longer than Zayn’s and then I realized it doesn’t matter even if it is because none of you probably care about the length, just the content.  
> 3) I actually tripped and fell one night because I pushed through exhaustion and stayed up to finish Zayn’s half. (No injuries, though! Lol) 
> 
> Reasons why this chapter was not ridiculous and actually super fun to write: 
> 
> 1) I loved nearly every other line (the ones sandwiching the ones I wasn’t sure of until finally I was)  
> 2) Derek is so supportive and somehow manages when I spam him with texts and frenzied questions  
> 3) It hopefully answers some questions you might be having so far… 
> 
> Enjoy! Hayley :)

**Zayn**

For having such a quiet life, Zayn was restless.

He hated being sedentary for too long. Sure, reading a 500 page novel or an 80,000 word story online suited him fine. But as soon as he got to the good part or finished it in a bittersweet haze, he would take a jog or go somewhere and pick up something to eat. He couldn’t sit for too long, not when his mind was racing endlessly.

In fact, every few months he would rearrange his bedroom.

He enjoyed experimenting with different possible layouts but there were limited options. As it was just a bookcase, a desk, and his bed, it was a simple task having so little to move. How thankful he was for the adjoining closet and bathroom which kept his sloppiness contained and hidden. He had a tendency to leave books lying about anywhere other than his bookcase anyway, which he usually kept leaning against his desk.

He should have known angling his bed against _this_ corner wouldn’t do him any good.

Indeed, his first night waking from this new arrangement was far from decent. He was truly, entirely, literally waking up from the wrong side of the bed.

“Louis William Tomlinson. You answer your phone right now. Louis, come on! You’re supposed to answer your phone when someone calls, that’s the whole point. I know you must be in heaven right now, taking care of Styles but remember, _we_ share blood. Come on, Lou, I really need to talk to you. A cousin heart-to-heart like we used to, yeah? I’m heading over to Roasted Beans, but call me back, okay?”

It’s the third missed call and the first time Zayn chooses to stay on the line long enough to send the voicemail.

Shoving his phone in his pocket, he looks around Roasted Beans with disgust. Today, he is in one of his moods, not entirely sure why, but the terrible night’s sleep certainly did him no favors. He blames it on the gloomy sky and waking up in a lonely bed. Of course, the sky is gray. It almost always is. _Why do I live in a country that is adamant about raining practically every day?_

There is no one in the coffee shop except a man behind the counter, one he has seen in passing before, the tall, outgoing one that usually comes in to work the shift after Louis’.

Zayn figures the dark-haired barista’s enthusiasm for his job might be exactly what he needs to distract him from his pessimistic monologues. He glances at the name tag so he can formally introduce himself and engage in a pleasant conversation because the man’s excessive, almost overpowering friendliness should overwhelm Zayn’s lethargic disposition. _Right_?

Except that is all forgotten about when Zayn sees a name tag boasting the name ‘Allison.’ He rolls his eyes; on a normal day, he’d laugh, maybe use it to initiate the friendly banter he was hoping for. Today, though, he just needs for any hot drink (that is easiest to make) to slide down his tongue, scorch it a little maybe, just to get rid of the dry, numb feeling.

“Am I supposed to be amused by that, _Allison_? Because I’m not. It’s unprofessional. Tacky.”

Today, what he really needs is his cousin.

He orders coffee, straight black, since he sees a pot brewing and because he’s not in the mood to exert effort on how he really takes it but makes sure it is “to go” and goes to sit at the table where he was sat by Liam only a few days ago. He thinks about the words exchanged and the dark brown eyes that seemed to reflect his own.

When the drink is ready, he saunters over and takes forever to get the words out, “Look, I’m sorry for how I came across. That’s a shit apology, but it’s just one of those days.”

He hopes the pitiful words somehow make enough sense to the man he barely knows and surely enough he gives him a look sympathetic to the point where Zayn is sure the man would jump over the counter and pat him on the back, or worse, offer a hug if he stayed a moment longer, which is not what he intended. All he wanted was to clear the air; he wasn’t one to spread the bleakness if he could help it.

He slowly backed towards the door, nearly spilling his coffee, muttering, “I’ve gotta go,” to no one in particular as he was refusing to look anywhere in the barista’s direction.

If he was experiencing the early stages of depression, then perhaps the after taste of nostalgia and empty promises was what he tasted on his tongue from the moment he woke up. It hadn’t left even after the minty toothpaste and he was hoping maybe the coffee would be strong enough to do it.

It wasn’t.

He checks his phone for the time before getting into his car. 11:36. He has to be at the library in a little under an hour. Plenty of time to lecture Louis for not getting back to him sooner.

His phone chirps, too enthusiastic for his mood. _It’s dissonance_ , he thinks to himself and nearly chuckles. For half a second he wraps himself in the thought, _now would that be ironic dissonance or dissonant irony?_

Swallowing his lame stream of thought, he opens the message.

“Zayn, Remember how I said Haz’s car got left all alone amidst all the mayhem. Would you be a doll and drive it over? She’s cold and misses her driveway. :( I know you might have a shift soon so if you get this before noon, could you please? You can borrow my car for work and then we can go get your car and maybe hang out afterwards or something?”

Before he has a chance to reply, another text arrives, this one with the Tomlinson sass he was expecting.

“Unless you’re hoping I’ll move in with H so you can steal my flat! Get your ass over here, Malik. Oh, and I kinda assumed you would so I asked H for the keys and snuck them into your glove compartment last night. So, surprise! :) No excuses. I’ll see you in 25 minutes, amazing cousin.”

 _What a rubbish day_ , Zayn admits, while driving towards the rink. Of course, he was going to do this favor if it meant seeing Louis in between watching him tuck Styles’ in with blankets and fluffing his pillows. No doubt the poor lad was injured and needed taken care of, but surely the man had friends of his own.

The coffee somehow tasted even worse as the minutes ticked by. He was half tempted to throw it out the window but he wasn’t one to punish the ground for his own misery.

He parks his car beside the one that is quite obviously Styles’. First of all, the rink is nearly empty with the rink being closed on Mondays. Secondly, his dear cousin was kind enough to send a picture of the car he was looking for. And of course, there was a bumper sticker that graced the car, **I(ce) skate for the girls.**

On his way over to the house which Louis so kindly texted him directions to despite them having went there only a short while ago for the party, he passed some cars with pretentious drivers that clearly got a laugh out of the bumper sticker, assuming it was how Zayn identified himself. He was half tempted to roll the window down and defend himself, but he convinced himself that going out of his way to explain that this wasn’t his car would have seemed pathetically desperate somehow.

It wasn’t until he pulled into Harry’s driveway that he hears the voice he needed to hear, and it’s coming towards him.

“I’d appreciate if you don’t send me sassy voicemails anymore. Having attitude does not look good on you, Zayn. I don’t care if you make everything else look sexy. Adding sass is my job. But, forget about that. Between caring for Harry and your concerning message, I’m barely holding it together and worried sick over the two of you. Then judging from the look on your face, we need to get that sorted. So, talk to me,” Louis demands.

“…In the driveway here,” Zayn not so much asks for he can barely get the words out much less add emotion.

“Yes. I told Harry not to worry. He needed to take a nap anyway, my sweet angel. I didn’t want whatever was bothering you to upset him.”

“Oh. Well, this day has been shit and I didn’t sleep well and the fucker covering for you at Roasted Beans just pissed me off without doing anything. And the coffee he served me just sucked. And you weren’t answering your phone…”

Zayn isn’t even whining. He’s verbalizing his list because he needs someone to hear his thoughts. Sometimes the silence of the library is deafening; he just needs an actual person to vocalize his stress to every so often.

At the unloading of Zayn’s emotions, Louis grabs him and squeezes tight, pressing on Zayn’s arm, “Oh, Zayn. Sorry, man. How about I bring over dinner tonight after your shift ends and we can watch a movie or something? You just need a Cousins Night fix, like old times, don’t ya?”

“That would actually be fucking perfect, Lou. So, quickly tell me about Harry before it’s too cold to stand out here any longer. How bad are the injuries then?”

“He definitely has to scratch out of the competition which sucks because he would have been able to go to Worlds, I’m sure. His whole life was ruined, and so was mine seeing him so unhappy. But, remember how my friend went through an injury too and switched over? The friend that went from footie to football, remember? Yeah, so I’ve sort of been like Harry’s therapist these last few days and we’re working on a plan to maybe switch over to hockey. It’s the closest thing to doing what he loves. Also, we kinda kissed. Um, but yeah, it’s been mostly moaning and pouting and him watching the news and replaying the injury video a million times seeing how he could have fixed it, landed differently, you know the athletes’ mentality where everything is their fault even if it’s not…”

Zayn has felt loads better ever since they hugged and getting all his troubles off his chest but he feels overwhelmed by all his cousin has just confessed. Louis does look worn out, now that he’s taking a good look at him. All puffy-eyed from either crying or a lack of sleep. Or both.

He has been visiting Harry nearly every day since the injury and he can see it’s been taking a toll on him. But, traces of his personality still poke through. Like this moment where he’s looking up at him with a kind of steadfast hopefulness Zayn doesn’t possess at a situation that he would designate the worst possible scenario, one deserving of cynicism.

So, he grabs his hand and softly suggests, “Why don’t we go and give him something to smile about then?”

Together, they turn towards the door and Louis argues, “For your sake, by that you better mean you’re going to recite him a chapter from an enjoyable book. He’s off limits… I know you’ve got a predilection for beautiful, brown eyes, you vain fool, but I think you should venture out of your comfort zone. Stay away from my green eyed-treasure though. He’s mine. M-I-N-E.”

Zayn genuinely laughs for the first time that day, and as they’re still beside Harry’s car, he nods towards Harry’s door, “Lead the way, Louis.” 

“Harry, love! Did you miss me,” Louis announces, nearly bouncing off the walls from either infatuation-induced concern or too much caffeine. Although it’s clearly the first one. Louis may be a barista but he’s more of a tea person, and that’s only on special occasions.

“I understand, Coach. I’m sorry. So sorry. I honestly thought I could do it. Yeah, me too. Okay,” Harry practically whispers hanging up the phone, wincing and then catching sight of Louis.

“It’s official. I… Louis? Louis, he’s giving me his support with my decision but I’m still on the fence. What if I miss it too much? What if… Oh, god. I’m sorry! Zayn, right? Hi, please, make yourself at home. Or wait, Louis told me you can’t stay because of your job. At least make yourself something to eat. Wouldn’t wanna go on an empty stomach and the fridge is well stocked thanks to Louis,” he says politely to Zayn once he finally notices him.

Zayn nods and follows Louis into the kitchen. They decide on heating up leftover soup for all of them to eat.

Since Zayn is pressed for time, he heats up his bowl first and as they wait on the microwave, he realizes Louis is staring at him with a weird grin on his face.

“What,” he finally caves and prepares himself for whatever his cousin is about to say.

“Ziam,” Louis says creepily.

“Excuse me,” Zayn replies, quite confused.

“Yeah, I’ve been calling you two Ziam. Zayn and Liam. Ziam. It’s cute, right? I figured I would finally test it aloud and watch your reaction. See, I’ve developed this nasty habit of blending you two together. I know you don’t mind. You’re basically the same person to me, you know. Must be the emotion-driven intensity the two of you share.”

Zayn smacks his lips, not playing along at all, but also not being rude enough to offend him because today they’ve been helping each other. “Uh huh, for sure.” He’ll entertain his cousin with these predictable reactions to rile him up so it distracts him from thinking about Harry.

His bowl is ready and he starts to eat as Louis puts two more bowls into the microwave and then remarks, “There you go again with that sarcasm that imitates my witty sassiness but doesn’t quite do it justice. Anyway, no. Really, Zayn. You both are great. And I think he’d be good for you, okay? If you’re worried, I definitely approve.”

The act has been given up, and now Zayn is honestly shocked. When did this go from friendly banter to a heart-to-heart on relationships? Sure, he wanted a heartfelt session with his cousin, but not this personal. Not on things he didn’t quite want to get into himself. He didn’t have answers for the question Louis was subconsciously asking. The _why are you still single, especially when Liam was right there and all they had to do was give it a try_ question.

He pulls his phone out to stall and so as to stop thinking and sees he has thirty five minutes before his shift. Just enough time to drive back.

“Louis, I’ve got to go.” Technically, he still had a few more minutes to spare. He had wanted nothing more than to see Louis and now here he was itching to leave. At least he was nearly done with his soup, just another spoonful, maybe two, and he could be on his way.

“Why, of course, those books must get so lonely without you running your fingers down every page, caressing all those big words,” Louis said, smirking.

Zayn rolled his eyes and admitted, “Hey, I need for you to shoot me a text every so often. I can’t just drive over here every time I want to talk to you.”

Louis grabbed his and Harry’s bowls that were now done and called out over his shoulder, “Got it… Ziam, and see ya later for dinner,” sealing his promise with a wink as Zayn figured he would.

On his way out, he thanks Harry for the soup and wishes him a speedy recovery as he gets into the third car he has driven that day.

He drove to his familiar job in his cousin’s unfamiliar car all while his heart played with the sound of whatever the word _Ziam_ was currently, and what it could eventually, hopefully mean.

 

**Liam**

Liam was not a pouter. He refused to associate himself with the ridiculous faces he has seen children pull so their parents give in to whatever toy they want them to buy.

Even now, with his bottom lip pulling his face into a frown, he denied the look he was giving his mirror as pouting. The more he looked at the reflection, the less he liked what he saw.

Okay, if in fact he was pouting, then at least he had a good reason.

It had been exactly six days since Liam had heard from Zayn. Six unbearable days. He had been counting the days by sending a good morning text to the lad every day. Getting nothing in response resulted in him believing he was being too clingy.

Not to mention he had woken up to a lengthy email from his father regarding his current state and wanting to be caught up in his son’s relationship outlook. He had been supportive when Liam had come out, both of his parents had fortunately, but they were also very unfamiliar on how to bring it up without being _so bloody blatant_.

Sighing, he set up a reminder in his phone to call his father later and maybe he would mention Zayn, or maybe not. Just as he was setting his phone down, a text came in.

_Hey, Liam. I know we haven’t hung out in like a week and I miss you, is that lame to say? Haha, so I’m at work actually and it’s really slow today like most days. See, the boredom has me rambling, so come save me! I need interaction with real people instead of just characters in books. ;)_

And another.

_Manchester Public Library. It’s not far from the rink. Two lights after it, and turn left at the second one, and it’s on the corner there. :)_

He knows exactly where that is. He remembers passing it on a date with _him._

Manchester was a huge city, and anyone could get easily lost in all the streets, but there were so many coincidences and connections the older he got.

They had just left a concert, some big name he should have known, but could care less about. A clash of musical taste wasn’t going to get in the way of having a good time with his first serious boyfriend.

But, Liam hadn’t had the best time that night. He remembers the offensive remarks coming from behind him when they held hands. The way his lungs seemed to close in on him when they danced to the slower songs. It wasn’t butterflies from the kisses but anxiety and he pushed it all down until they were walking out of the venue at the end of the show.

The flicker of a desire to run into the library, cozy up between the shelves and forget that the world was more than just the two of them, if only for ten minutes, was consuming him.  

Liam remembers it all.

The whispered, “Liam, Jesus Christ. Fuck all those guys, okay?”

The confessed, “You make me happy. I like what we have. And I hope I make you happy, but this is supposed to be easy.”

And the defeated, “Babe, I don’t want to rush you into coming out. That has to be on your terms and you know I will support you if you do it, or if you never do it. As a friend, I love you, Li. I think I always will… It’s not that I don’t want to be with you anymore, but remember how we said we’d try us out as long as it was easy, as long as it made sense to us? Well, I-I… think we’re finally at the point where we have to make some kind of leap, but you have to trust where we’re going and I know that sounds scary because hell if I even know what we are doing, but I still wanted to head there with you… I just don’t think you’re ready,” Liam watched him slowly say, as if trying to convince himself and refusing to look anywhere but the street, and then walked away with such a sadness that looked criminally wrong on that boyish face.

Liam remembers that night so vividly because it represented a change in him.

After all, he had filled out the application for Calvin Klein a few nights later, running after that change. Running away from the first real love of his life that could have been so much more. And he ran straight into the arms of the modeling world, with only being barely aware of the fleeting promise of a supportive friend. He didn’t dare speak or think his name after that night, and having never heard from him since they broke it off made it far too easy to forget about him, what they had.

And here he was, nearly a year later, about to walk through the doors of that very same library he had wanted to escape into all those nights ago and pretend his hero was waiting for him hidden somewhere in the shelves, on the pages.

The door chimed as it opened and Liam found himself having a déjà vu moment. Not one from outside the entrance of the library a year ago but one from inside a coffee shop just a short time ago.

Zayn was sat at a table having another deep conversation with the girl he had been with at Roasted Beans. Only this time the table was far bigger, and at least ten opened books covered it save the spot designated for the girl’s laptop, notebook and pen, and two water bottles.

Liam was very aware that there was nothing to worry about as Zayn was probably being a wonderful gentleman, helping the student out with her uni work, but the clenching of his fists and the cough he hadn’t meant to let out that interrupted the hushed discussion suggested otherwise.

“Liam, hey! Pull up a chair,” Zayn called out and Liam hoped he wasn’t just imagining the way his eyes lit up when he said his name.

“This is Molly, you probably recognize her from Roasted Beans,” he began to say and then the girl grabbed Liam’s hand welcomingly and shook it unexpectedly, smiling, “And you’re Liam, the guy who met up with Zayn after I left. Let me tell you, this literal angel right here was sent directly from the heavens above to ensure I pass these classes and graduate on time. He’s more helpful than any professor I’ve ever had.”

If Liam cringed when this Molly child had called Zayn her “angel,” then his poker face gave nothing away or so he hoped. Only the prints left from his fingers digging viciously into his jeans that were hidden from sight under the table could do that.

Liam watched her flip through different pages of various books gracing the table and having moments of inspiration where something would click and she’d type furiously on her laptop for a few minutes before editing the line and then smiling at the progress she was making, albeit slower than she was probably hoping.

It was times like these where he almost wished he would have went to uni, just for the satisfaction of completing the hard work and getting the education for a good job.

Nearly a half hour later, Molly was packing up her things and Liam barely registered she and Zayn moving towards the counter in order to check out some of the books she had been using.

He watched Zayn talk to her while he processed the books and they hugged as she was leaving. Liam had never wanted to be Molly’s Manchester University book bag more than in that moment when Zayn’s arms were wrapped around it, embracing her. He never thought he’d ever be jealous of a silly object, and a bag nonetheless.

“So, what interesting stuff did you enlighten her with today? Theories? Analysis stuff? A lecture on some of your favorite things,” Liam asked, slightly teasing as Zayn approached the table and returned to where he had been sitting.

“We talked about a lot. She was here finishing her paper. I think I pointed her in the right direction as far as sources go. I wasn’t entirely familiar with the concepts myself, to be quite honest,” he noticed Zayn say rather indifferently as if something else was on his mind.

“I bet you were more helpful than you think. Sometimes even talking with someone inspires ideas.”

“Indeed,” and a brilliant smile flashed in front of him, “You wanna know what we ended up talking about, Liam?”

Liam nodded but he was unsure whether he really wanted to know, not with the way Zayn was looking at him with unfocused eyes that seemed almost frustrated.

“She hit on me. Man, Molly hit on me and the first thing I managed to say back was how she reminded me of my younger sister, Waliyha. How fucked is that, right? But, it was so out of the blue and really startled me, coming out of nowhere. So, I explained myself and I felt like shit until I saw her half laughing at me. Clearly not upset over it at all,” Zayn paused, letting Liam take the story in before continuing.

He watched Zayn take a few sips from a water bottle that Molly must have left for him and blinked a few times to keep from staring at the man sitting across from him and the incredible way he was swallowing his water.

“Yeah, so turns out she wasn’t even interested in me, like she thought I was attractive but she was more so just doing an experiment! Apparently she’s gay but she’s not out yet, and she’s not ready to come out so she, how did she put it… “hit on me to see if a guy could be interested in her so that if she needs to fake a relationship she’d be able to have chemistry with him in front of her parents,” isn’t that insane?”

Liam had to agree, but he also knew far too well how ostracized a person who had just come out could feel around a homophobic crowd.

“Now, we got into a crazy discussion over how she’s been slowly sending out hints to her family and trying to gauge what they think of homosexuality and from what she sort of vented to me, they seem open minded and accepting, but she’s still worried because here’s where it gets even crazier, Liam,” Zayn said looking almost as awestruck as Liam, and he was so animated in that moment that he was convinced Zayn should be a storyteller. He had such enthusiasm, just telling this story, that Liam could only imagine what Zayn could do with all these great works surrounding him.

“Molly is secretly dating this girl Sara that she met at uni. They’re really happy and Molly thinks if her parents sees that a “boyfriend” makes her happy, then it is just one step closer to introducing Sara to them,” and from the way Zayn leans back in his chair, Liam can tell he has finished his story.

“That’s kind of ridiculous to go through all that, but I commend her. Wow. Hope it all works out for her,” Liam says genuinely.

Zayn added, “Yeah, I really do too. I think the parents are the easy ones actually. I’m more nervous over Molly and Sara. She told me they’re both crazy for each other, but you know how relationships come and go. Apparently it took an incredibly long time for them to even get together because she was ignoring the feelings and then Sara just thought it was unrequited. Communication is key, y’know, so of course, they spent some time being miserable and alone when they could have been together much longer, but they’re happy now so that’s all that matters really.”

There was a small moment of silence and Liam took the opportunity to confess something of his own since the timing seemed fitting, what with that particular story and all.

“Zayn. I’m fucking Molly,” He murmured it more so to himself than to the boy sat across from him.

“Excuse me,” he breathed out, while raising his eyebrows.

“Shit. I’m- We’re not. I don’t even know her like that. You know this was only the second time we met. But, Zayn. I. Am. Her,” the words fumbled out.

“Not completely sure I follow but I think I know where you’re heading,” Zayn said, chewing on his lower lip. Distracting.

“I’m Molly…. Which would make you Sara,” Liam could feel himself blushing but maybe it wasn’t as awkwardly noticeable as he was imagining.

“Oh.” Of all the responses Liam was expecting, the simple two-letter word was not one of them.

He was about to take it all back; they were having such an interesting conversation up to this point, and Liam had decided from the moment he first met Zayn that he wanted to befriend him. _A friendship is damn well enough and you know it,_ his mind reinforced.

He was about to save himself from embarrassment and play it off as a joke or some cruel trick his mind had played on him, a Freudian slip.

But, Zayn broke the silence, “Actually, I fear _I’m_ the Molly to your Sara.”

 _Oh_.

“So you like me then,” Liam smiles shyly.

“Yeah, and you like me. Oh, Lord, Liam, I thought you were going to say you were like Molly because you like someone else and you wanted me to be your confidante or something… I’m glad that’s not the case. Well, I was probably more obvious about it then you, I reckon. I’ll forever apologize for the gawking at the Calvin Klein show but I’ll never let you live your reactions to Louis’ innuendos from that day down.”

“Shut up. He was excessive about it and you know it. But, wow, it’s mutual. I can’t believe it,” he sighs and exhales all the air he must have been holding.

“Well, hey. Would you like to celebrate? Our shared attraction that has come to light? Louis and I are gonna have dinner tonight, if you want to join us. He can grill us together, haha. But, he already likes you more than me, I can tell! It’s not much of a date, I know, but we’ll have to go on a proper one sometime soon.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, definitely. But, I won’t be able to make dinner tonight. I’m sorry. I’ve got a Skype meeting with the company at 7. Going over details for the next show, and all that,” Liam hears how lame his excuse sounds but it is honestly the only thing separating him from saying yes to what would without a doubt be a fun dinner with Zayn and Louis.

“It’s alright, Liam. Another time, okay? And we’ve got a date to schedule,” he said, lowering his voice, despite no one else being in the library, and leaned in to say goodbye.

A warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, _such a gentleman_ , Liam thought, and then they were parting ways.

He left the library feeling so remarkable. Zayn not only returned the feelings but he had a kind of appreciation for him that felt undeserved. At the same time, he was prepared to match the intensity Zayn met him with and loved having this opportunity, to see the potential of _them_.

He figured he’d stop in to Roasted Beans on the way home, get a hot chocolate since he had started to associate the drink with the warm feeling Zayn left him with, and today had been great.

He opened the door and turned towards to the counter, simple enough. But, the door wasn’t swinging shut immediately like it usually did.

Instead, a gust of air and a tap on the shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey. Liam, wow.” That voice.

He barely registered the door finally smacking shut.

No. No way.

“Niall?! What, how? I-“

Chants of _this is supposed to be easy_ and _I just don’t think you’re ready_ echoed in his head.

“Yeah, I saw you walk in and I thought that was you. Judging from your face, you definitely don’t seem too glad to see me? For fucks sake, Liam, if you’re wondering how we haven’t crossed paths all year, it’s because I stayed away from places I knew you liked to go. I did pay attention, Li. Always paid attention to you. It was bound to happen eventually, right? We’ve both got some explaining to do. Me more so than you, I reckon. But, hey, what are you doing at a coffee shop? And the face of Calvin Klein? I’ve seen the pictures in the magazines. Who are you, stranger?”

Somehow it came across as an endearment, though indeed, both men were unrecognizable to the other. And Liam was holding his breath because here was his ex-boyfriend right in front of him, showing more emotion in this encounter than he had when he walked away.

“Hey, I’m a different person now, Ni.. Niall. I was stuck and had to change who I was and I’m great. But, you? You were never a coffee person either.”

_This is supposed to be easy._

“This place is hiring apparently. I just turned in an application and I’m going to play for the manager tomorrow,” Niall said excitedly.

“…Play,” Liam hesitated to play along. He was itching to leave truthfully, but his curiosity got the best of him.

“Yeah, I saw an ad in the paper. Asked for entertainment and you know I like singing for fun. This past year I’ve kind of set up some gigs and I’m writing my own things. It’s still just a hobby but this offers a little side money, so I figured why not, ya know,” and he seemed happier than he had in the time Liam had known him.

“I hope you get it. Uh, good luck. Um, I’m actually seeing this guy and his cousin works here so I guess we will see each other from time to time then,” Liam rushed the words out, not thinking, and immediately felt guilty for even bringing it up.

Rather than upset as he expected, Niall seemed elated. Weird.

“Liam.”

No _what the hell, Liam_.

No _you’re fucking kidding me._

No _I can’t believe this._

No _I just don’t think you’re ready._

Instead came a very honest, “Does he make you happy?”

_This is supposed to be easy._

Liam nodded because it was weird to validate everything he had with Zayn, everything Niall wasn’t, with words. And it was just strange to be talking about his current relationship with his old flame.

_I just don’t think you’re ready._

Liam could practically feel the mantra of Niall’s final words to him all those months ago consuming the space between them.

“I see. Look, I’m fine with it, okay? We were just super casual anyway. Just young and reckless and completely casual. So, uh, whether I land this job or not, I hope we can catch up again soon. See ya around, Liam,” Niall said quietly.

Later that night, Liam had called Zayn to tell him all that happened after he left the library, who he had run into.

Not until after he had hung up and crawled into bed did he realize Niall had left Roasted Beans uncannily in the same quiet way he had walked away from him in front of the library a year ago.

Not until he was a moment away from drifting to sleep did he figure out that maybe seeing Niall was the closure he needed, that it was a sign he could really get serious with Zayn, that he was free to love intensely and fiercely in a way he hadn’t been ready to do just a year ago.

Not until the next morning when he got a ‘ _hello :) great seeing ya yesterday_ ’ from Niall did he wonder if maybe it was weird how his ex had reappeared right when his life was starting to make sense again

…but the _‘What if I told you I dreamt about kissing you and I woke up smiling because of it?’_ made the worry etching his face get replaced by a love-induced grin, and somehow the message felt like he was being hugged by Zayn’s words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if that chapter gave you whiplash with all the emotions. 
> 
> Did it answer some of your questions though? Or maybe now you have more? :)


	7. Relearning How to Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Zayn and Liam have their first date, and establish themselves as a couple. Unfortunately, not everything goes to plan and their seemingly perfect relationship gets disrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hayley here… I’ve got another Ziam chapter for you (and Derek has told me he is planning on a Larry chapter to become Chapter 6 hopefully :) ) Honestly, this is so overdue, but it was hard to navigate writing this fic after March 25th. I don’t know how I feel about this chapter but I definitely was always planning on finishing this fic with Derek. I have been struggling with and reworking this chapter off and on these past few months. 
> 
> *FIC UPDATE: This fic will only have 1 or 2 chapters left for its completion.* 
> 
> This chapter will be different than previous ones, in that there will be time lapses. Imagine a few days between the first and second time lapse and a few weeks passing between the last two, which will be indicated within the chapter by /// marks. Basically, think of this chapter as having 3 sections. The reason for these time lapses are primarily because I had intended for two longer chapters to separate the time within the fic, but I have condensed it down instead into a longer, single chapter. Also, there will be a small Author’s note before the last section.

**Zayn**

“Hi, it’s Molly’s boyfriend. She can’t answer right now. Just imagine that we’re currently doing something, y’know… naughty… because we might be doing _just that._ Bye!” 

So as not to waste each other’s time, the rule had been established early on that if either of them had forgotten to turn their phones off before they started the study sessions that the other would get to answer any calls or texts that came in. Unfiltered. 

It was like a game. 

Molly took the phone out of Zayn’s hand, hesitantly and only a little uncomfortable. It was frequent enough between the two of them, that there was no need for apologizing about forgetting. Instead, it gave them entertainment when periodic breaks were needed anyway. Immediately, she relaxed when she saw who had called. 

“Zayn. You best be glad that WASN’T my mum or worse, SARA,” she says, albeit grinning, “Just a friend. Who will completely understand when I text them later.” 

“Well, good, but that’s payback for that cheeky thing you said to my cousin last time,” Zayn teased, though Louis’ response was more priceless than Molly’s eager words to an unfamiliar, sultry hello, _It’s Molly, and Zayn can’t take your call because he’s currently experiencing a thrilling hour of pleasure he won’t forget._

To which Louis had practically screamed, _I don’t know who you are, but put my fucking cousin on the phone right now, I swear to god, or-_

Beep. 

Molly had hung up, beaming (because it was the first time one of them had gotten to execute a phone ambush and she was more than glad it wasn’t her phone that had buzzed), while Zayn shook his head, slightly embarrassed though suppressing a laugh. 

Once it was explained, Louis had warmed up to Molly quite quickly, despite never meeting her. Zayn wasn’t surprised. They were quite similar, if he was honest. 

“Zayn.” 

Leaving his stream of consciousness, Molly reminded him of the matter of grave importance. This essay prompt, given only a few days prior, was solely for extra credit… a rare commodity in college, especially with this specific professor whom she never thought would be generous enough to offer bonus points. Enough people were struggling with the tests apparently. 

His train of thought kept slipping though as he thought of Liam’s lips and _that fucking body…_

And then his thoughts slipped to _fucking that body…_

Their first date was coming up. He wasn’t ready. He’d never be ready. 

“Liam, again?” Molly snickered, snapping her fingers. Sassy, just like Louis. 

“Yes,” Zayn blushed, “Sorry. I’m of no help to you when I’m this distracted. Forgive me, but it would probably be best if we leave it here. Please feel free to call me if you have any questions. Send a rough draft over to me, and I can take a look at it. I think I just need a good night’s sleep. A fresh mind.” 

She was always understanding and this was no exception; gathering her things, she walked out of the library (during which Zayn took one very long, shaky breath, completely not thinking of how thoughts of Liam were affecting his entire being). Not ten seconds later did he see her walking back in, with an excited expression. Huge eyes. Alarming eyes actually. 

“Um…” Zayn frowned. 

“He’s here! Zayn, ready yourself. Your boy is about to walk in! I saw him parking his car outside. Have fun,” Molly rushed out, both her words and her body quite literally towards the door. 

_Fuck._

He could see Liam every day for a year and still not get used to being in the same room as the other man. And that’s on a good day, when he’s prepared for the encounter. 

In record time, Zayn quickly ran his fingers through his hair for a freshly tousled look, fixed his clothes, and inspected his teeth in the reflection of the screen on his phone. All good. Or, at least what he deemed as sufficiently presentable for Liam. (If he had been expecting Liam, consider him ready an hour in advance. He wasn’t one to rush the process of his looks.) 

**Liam**

It was funny how nervous Liam still got around Zayn. Yes, they were about to go on their first date, so technically the nerves were understandable. But, they had been friends for a bit now. It wasn’t like going on one of those awkward blind dates. 

He could genuinely say the attraction was mutual. 

Seeing Zayn at work in the library a few hours earlier was exciting. It was unplanned. He had hoped he would appear spontaneous, an attribute he knew he did not have. 

On a whim, he drove over and pulled the man into his arms. Very cheesy, if he thought about it too much… Still, Zayn was nearly done with his shift, if you can call it that… There had been no one else in the library, except Molly since she had weekly study meetings with Zayn. 

He remembers feeling nervous, finally being able to ask out the words he had constantly rehearsed. 

“You’re almost done with work. Let’s get out of here. Want to go on that official date finally?” 

Zayn had smiled, but then groaned, “Of course, though honestly not giving a man a chance to change into something more appealing is rather selfish, don’t you think?” 

Liam had chuckled and he found himself smiling even now as he drove to the restaurant. Zayn was following him in his own car, which Liam opposed to but it made sense given that he had shown up at the library. Where Zayn worked. Where Zayn had to drive to. 

The restaurant was some quaint, little eatery tucked back into an alley, perfect for an intimate date night. It was a quiet, nice place the two of them could be themselves. 

Now lying in bed, he remembers the way they barely focused on the meal. It was a perfect first date with a polite, but enthusiastic conversation and nicely timed flirtations albeit the few awkward silences and not quite knowing where to place their hands upon kissing goodbye. 

Liam slept soundly that night, dreaming of sweetness and promises. 

/// [Time Lapse 1 of 2: A few days later] 

**Zayn**

They were not going to be one of those couples that spent every waking moment of their lives together, obnoxiously connected at the hip. He refused to let that happen. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Liam, he couldn’t handle not having his own time to himself… and also he would have to be really stupid to be that inconsiderate of those around them. 

At the same time, he also felt like a teenager out of some movie because their first date had gone so well. He was swooning. 

He felt borderline clingy though. The lack of Liam in his life presently was gnawing at him. 

“You still love-struck, lover boy?” Louis smiled. 

_I just didn’t think I’d fall for him this fast,_ Zayn wanted to say. Instead, he turned the question around on his cousin, “What about you, Louis? Still long gone for Harry?” 

Louis’s smile lit up the room at the mention of Harry’s name. 

“Yes. We get on, it’s all good. In fact-” Louis tried to say nonchalantly. 

“Liam is working on some big, top secret modeling project, and I don’t want to disturb him, but also I just want to be around him. That’s silly. It’s silly, right? How do you handle being away from Harry for so long,” Zayn interrupted. 

Louis, being the dear, older cousin he was, put on his advice hat and his best sympathetic face. 

“Oh, Zayn. You’re fine to be anxious. Liam is a great guy, and so are you. You two deserve each other. As for me, I handle it by busying myself with other things. Yes, it’s great when I’m with Harry, but we are two separate people, right? So, we have things to do on our own, things that can only be accomplished when we’re alone. For your boy, that’s his job apparently. You’ve gotta share him with his job. Just find something to distract yourself while he is working. Pick up a hobby that is not related to your job, AKA reading and tutoring sessions. Go outside, Zayn. Live a little.” 

“Way to get philosophical, Lou,” Zayn smirked. 

“It’s not only for people like you,” Louis quipped. 

Zayn sighed, and then agreed, “Well, you make a good point though. Perhaps I’ll go take a walk or something. Clear my head…” 

He started to make his way out the door when he heard Louis offhandedly reply, “Why do I think you’re about to make a really bad decision as to where you’ll be walking?” 

Zayn hesitated, feeling caught, but swallowed his embarrassment and ignored Louis’ judgment as he closed the door behind him. 

Yes, it was a great day to walk over to Liam’s office. 

**Liam**

Liam took a deep breath, wondering how the conversation had turned so ugly in a matter of minutes. 

He was already feeling incredibly down from a bad encounter with Zayn and now he was regretting meeting Niall. See, Zayn had interrupted his Skype session with his boss and it was with good intentions, sure, but Liam did not have the time to cater to his new boyfriend while he was going over important details of the next photoshoot and planning an upcoming event. He did not even dare to think of the broken hearted look on Zayn’s face when he had practically screamed at him to leave immediately. 

Sitting here in the parking lot outside the ice rink, Liam couldn’t remember why he had agreed to meet Niall. He also wished they had done this in Niall’s car rather than his own. It would be rude to ask the other boy to leave when he clearly had more to say, but he would have been completely okay with abandoning Niall’s car for his own, if only to leave him just as he had been left the year before… just to make a statement. But really, that’s cruel even for him. 

It was so innocent at first, just Niall discussing what he had thought of his audition at Roasted Beans. The coffee shop was taking their good old time getting back to him, on whether he had secured the Friday night gigs or not. He had prepared a love song, of course. Niall goes on to say how he thinks he messed up a few words in the beginning, but that he felt he nailed the choruses though. 

Somehow it quickly transitioned to the blond’s hand reaching out to touch his thigh and the hesitant confession that a mistake may have been made. 

Suddenly, the platitudes were cut short and Liam wanted to escape. 

Suddenly, he was back to where he was a year ago, outside the library, watching everything he thought he wanted choosing to walk away from him. 

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. But out of nowhere, he made the decision to speak his mind. Finally. 

“Ni, you were the one to end it. Not me. I wanted it, wanted you,” Liam mumbled. It wasn’t much of a defense, but the fight felt like it was knocked out of him. The energy that rushed through him urging his desire to stand his ground quickly passed as he looked into blue eyes. 

“It’s funny you say that. God, we were both stupid. So stupid. I couldn’t lose you anyway, not really,” Niall’s words being thrown out like punches, in a not so funny way. 

“But-“ Liam tried to interrupt, only to get interrupted himself. _You had me,_ he had wanted to say. 

“Liam. You were never mine,” he said so simply, so softly, as if he had known what Liam was going to say, as if this statement was something he said regularly, …as if over time he grew used to saying it. 

_You were never mine._

_Great._ Liam had something new to add to his collection of phrases Niall said that inevitably haunted him. 

_How could he even say such a thing? I gave him, us, my best try._

Leaving Liam to his thoughts, Niall slowly opened the car door. Even though the door was swinging shut, he swore he could hear him mumbling something that sounded an awful lot like, _Even now you’re stuck in your own head – always was the problem,_ as he closed the door, not looking behind him. 

When his mind was made up, Niall was never one to look back. 

And yet again, Liam was left alone, holding on to just the silence and shadows that remained. 

 

He sent the text before he could think about what he was saying (though, to be honest, he wasn’t sure himself), _cn I call u?_

Had he been sober, Liam would have been ecstatic or concerned at how quickly the response came in. 

_New message from Zayn: yeah_

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” Liam repeated quietly, unsure of why he called. 

“Why are you whispering?” 

“I don’t, I don’t know,” Liam wanted to answer, but he didn’t know how. Too clouded, overstimulated. Unsure of what to focus on, so he anchored himself onto the only other thing he could in that moment: Zayn’s voice. 

“Um, what’s up,” Zayn offered. 

Liam decided that it was the perfect time to confess, “I’m drunk,” all the while asking himself why exactly he felt the need to tell Zayn. 

A teasing voice, not really asking what he wants though, “Are you?” 

An honest answer, not really telling what he wants to say instead, “Enough, yeah. It’s great. I have a headache though.” 

“You should get some sleep,” Zayn says concerned, after a long pause. 

“…You’re right. Of course,” Liam agrees, and hopes to hide the disappointment in his voice. 

Thinking the conversation is basically over, he nearly falls off his bed when Zayn adds on, “Was there a reason you wanted to call me, Liam?” 

“Yeah, wanted you- Wanted, to…. Talk, to…. You,” and Liam can tell he is starting to slur his words so he speaks slowly and focuses on getting out each individual word. It is something he can disregard for the present moment and be embarrassed about in the morning. 

“About…” Zayn said, his voice sounding a bit stilted. 

“Everything?” Liam whispered apologetically. 

Zayn took a deep breath and then replied, “Alcohol makes you a late-night thinker, huh?” 

“I don’t drink often,” Liam urged, unsure of where to begin. He had so much to apologize for, and the buzz was starting to wear off. 

Liam had thoughts swarming him and words on his lips, but a heaviness was pulling him closer to drifting off into sleep. 

He wakes up and as most people his age do first thing in the morning, he checks his phone. 

Odd. 

He remembers calling Zayn, and he will have to deal with whatever he said to him eventually. 

But. 

The call is still going? Apparently, he forgot to hang up. He hovers over the button, but curiosity gets the best of him. 

“Zayn?” Liam says sharply. 

He can practically hear Zayn jolt up, “Whaaaaaa-“ 

“Zayn… It’s Liam,” and it sounds awkward. 

“Oh, yeah, I know. Hi,” and there is something undeniably sexy about hearing Zayn talk after waking up. 

“Did- Did I- Why is- Why didn’t we hang up,” Liam asks nervously. 

To his surprise, Liam hears Zayn admitting something he didn’t know he needed to hear, “Oh, um. I may have not wanted to? You seemed…” 

“Did I- What did I say to you last night? Please tell me,” Liam starts, then stops. He had intended on some kind of apology, but it was more like a drunk, stupid decision if he was being honest with himself. 

“I don’t think you said anything you wouldn’t have said if you were sober,” Zayn seemed to promise, though there was a tone, an edge in his voice that Liam noticed. 

“But I’m clearly still hung over enough to not understand what you just said,” Liam tried to say this in a goofy manner, but here he was just making small talk, not pressing on the actual issue at hand. 

He desperately needed to know where they stood after the whole office incident. Yes, Zayn had crossed a line, interfering with his job like that, but Liam had done much worse by shutting him out. 

“You know I’m worried about you, right?” And now Liam was frustrated because Zayn had no right to be this concerned even when he should be angry with him. 

“I’m aware, yes,” Liam muttered, feeling that he was being talked to as if he were a child. He was capable of doing foolish things, sure, but he was not childish. 

“I need you to know that I thought it was very sweet you came to see me the other day,” he continues. 

“But,” Zayn prompts him, expecting the topic to come up. 

“But… it caught me off guard. I separate my work life and love life intentionally because I have to focus. When I try to think about both together, they collapse. And I need both. I need my job and I need you. I just- I don’t know what I’d do if I fucked up in both places and ended up jobless and without you,” Liam chose his words carefully, but allowed himself to be honest.

“Okay, I understand,” Zayn promises genuinely, “I love you. But. And I know this is awful timing, but what about your ex? Are you really over him? I want you to be happy, and if he makes you happier, then… I just know how you were saying you had seen him.” 

Some time passes and he adds, “I… Yes, I had seen him, Zayn. But, I didn’t say I enjoyed seeing him. He made it clear he wants me back, but I can’t do that again. You know that. I love you much more. This is just- I’m sort of- I’m annoyed now… Ughhh, you know how I feel. And yes, I saw him, but I can make my own choices, Zayn.” 

Are they back at square one? They patched things up over the office drama, and now Niall becomes their new obstacle. _Really?_ Liam is slightly offended. 

“I’d like to think you’d choose me over him,” Zayn finally admitted. 

“I’d like to think you can trust me,” Liam challenges back. 

Silence. 

“Maybe we should take some time to figure things out,” Zayn then mutters, and Liam dreads the way it sounds. 

He is lost for words. He feels breathless. 

But, he remains composed. 

He takes a few moments to collect himself, but not long enough to make Zayn think he has hung up. 

“Okay, sure, Zayn. Whatever you want,” Liam announces, without emotion. 

Hanging up, he grabs his work out bag and thinks it might be a good time to head over to the gym. 

/// [Time lapse 2 of 2: A few weeks later] 

Author Note: I’m not going to sugarcoat anything. This is a break up scene. It is loosely based on the Friends episode when Rachel and Ross “take a break,” and the events that follow. (Except that Ross is kind of Zayn and Liam is Rachel, ignore what Liam said at that one show… lol) Anyway, you know the one. If not, here is a link to see the specific scene I’m talking about. Just copy and paste the following: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ir8yY_0jG3k 

**Zayn**

He didn’t like drinking. Didn’t like the feeling of losing control. Didn’t like mornings where he’d wake up in unfamiliar beds with men and women he’d shagged just because he didn’t want to wake up alone. Didn’t like how they were all the same, how they always seemed to feel a sense of accomplishment and evoke it in such a prideful manner so naively unmatched to his visibly strong regret. 

Yet, here he was at a bar ordering his second drink, hoping it would dull his thoughts just enough to numb what would indefinitely be another dumb decision he was bound to make later on. Oh, he was sure of it. 

Zayn was predictable. He was well aware of it. Too aware. 

He just never thought Liam would find that a problem. Never thought that once Liam addressed it, he would find it so insulting. 

Yet, here he is downing that second drink, and wiping his mouth as he gets up to leave. It’s not working. The buzz isn’t kicking in yet and he’s glad the bar is close enough to his home to walk to, but he would prefer being more numb for the walk to silence all his thoughts accompanying him. 

Shutting his mind off, he tries to paralyze every thought that dares to enter his mind. He cringes at the mere thought of just Liam’s name. It physically hurts so much. He uses that pain as a distraction. It doesn’t work. 

He just wants to go to bed, sleep it off (whatever this is) but he finds himself taking steps toward the library. After all, he does have a key to the place… and it’s a nice, quiet area where he would remain unbothered should he do something stupid. 

Just when he thinks the effects are finally kicking in, that the dull, familiar throbbing (the good kind) is starting to weave its way in, it hits him. 

He thinks he’s hallucinating. Either that or the drink is a lot stronger than he remembers, but of course, he drinks so infrequently, maybe this is what normal people usually experience and he’s being foolish. 

But, there it is. 

Whispers. Two men cloaked by shadows and aggressively arguing over something or another or each other, and as it gets more and more heated the closer Zayn gets, it loses the hushed volume and starts to explode. Zayn nearly feels a secondhand ache that seems to vibrate in the distance kept between the two. 

“I’m losing everything because of you. You have to know that, right?” 

Liam. 

No. 

“Come on, it’s not that serious and you know it. You don’t care about him that much, I can see it in your ey-“ Niall. 

Liam and Niall. 

What absolute fucking luck. The very two people Zayn was hoping to avoid by going to the bar, knowing they’d never go there… or fiercely hoping

He was avoiding Liam constantly these days. After suggesting the two of them take a break, he had immediately regretted it but knew it was probably a smart idea. He didn’t want to get caught up in a messy love life anyway. 

And as soon as he has the thought, it vanishes because Liam interrupts the blond man, erupting. 

“How DARE you think YOU know ME after all this time? It’s been A YEAR, Ni! I’ve changed! You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to come here and ruin my life and the one good thing that has happened since YOU walked away… You stole my chance at happiness then! We could have been- …Fuck you.” 

Liam looks and sounds so defeated by the time he takes a breath and Zayn wants to walk away. He should have turned around the moment he had recognized them actually. 

Something glued him to that spot though, like a magnet tugging on him. It was probably Liam, if he’s being honest with himself. Even when he was so upset with Liam, he had melted the second he saw him as per usual. He watches on. 

“I can’t do this! You’ve somehow managed to hurt me AGAIN, Niall. You’re brilliant at it. But, I can’t do it again, so I won’t let you. And you know what the fuck I mean,” Liam spits out, turning around and he starts walking away, further from Zayn’s reach. 

Niall sighs and grabs Liam, putting himself in front of the invisible path Liam was heading towards. Now Zayn can see Niall’s face, for the first time. It looks genuinely pained.

Zayn feels more sober with each passing minute, like a mute bystander trespassing on this moment, and takes a mental note to never go to that bar again. The alcohol is clearly defected there. Broken, like him. 

Zayn watches as Liam and Niall do a kind of dance in this heated moment, switching places yet again. 

“Liam. I- I just- Fuck. I’m sorry, okay? I just need you in my life. I know I’ve been absolute shit and I don’t deserve anything from you. But, I wanna fix this. I wanna fix us,” he practically stutters, slightly slurring at the end, and he sounds like he could be drunk. Life is unbelievably unfair so sure, why not? Of course the man has it all: Liam, _and_ he can get drunk. Both, unlike him currently. 

He decides he has heard enough. 

He finally moves to leave, when he hears it. 

“Zayn? Is that you,” Liam cries out, sounding as broken as Zayn feels, and now Liam is the paralyzed one. _It’s only fair,_ Zayn thinks rather selfishly. 

Fully sober as he finally unleashes himself to all of his thoughts again, Zayn finds the only word that comes to mind and it tastes acidic when he lets it leave his tongue. 

“Don’t.” His body feels betrayed that it has to even direct such a word towards such an unbelievable person like Liam. 

But, here he is. 

“Zayn, please,” Liam’s eyes are darting between Niall’s offer and Zayn’s lips. It’s too much. 

“Just don’t,” Zayn repeats and it slides off his tongue better the second time. Easier. 

Zayn starts to back away because for the first time since meeting the brunet, he needs to be as far away from him as humanly possible. He needs to find a way to forget the man, just for the night. He needs his heart to stop breaking, or at least pause. 

Right before he is out of hearing distance, he can’t help but sneak a glance over his shoulder and immediately regrets it. 

He sees Niall trying to comfort Liam. Or, more maybe restraining him from following him. Probably a smart decision. Zayn can’t handle what he would do if Liam were to chase after him. Perhaps, Niall isn’t so bad after all. 

But, oh, he is. In that one glance, he sees what looks like an opportunity taken. 

What looks like Niall kissing Liam. And that hurts more than anything else. 

Zayn runs home, all while imagining he hears footsteps following him that never come. 

With a long sigh, he types out a text he never thought he would ever have to use. 

_‘Hey, I’ll take you up on your offer. Come over?’_

He hits send. 

**Liam**

Niall deserves an award after this performance. For the Best Liar. Best Manipulator. Most likely to sabotage any hint of happiness near him, somewhat like that of a hurricane. A Happiness Annihilating Hurricane. 

They’re adult men, for crying out loud. It shouldn’t be this complicated, this ugly. 

And he fucked up things with Zayn quite solidly. _Oh, god. How much had he heard just now?_

Maybe he deserves an award. Worst boyfriend. Or a plaque that said ‘Most destined to ruin all good things: Liam Payne.’ 

It was a whirlwind of a night and right when things seemed to be at their worst, it somehow got worse. Why Niall had thought it would be a good idea to kiss him, he didn’t know. It brought back some memories of late night moments and simpler times, but only for a second. 

As if he knew he was being watched, he froze mid-kiss, only to see Zayn watching. Well, not really watching so much as looking back at the wrong moment and Liam cursed his luck.

All he could do was shake his head at Niall, who didn’t even have the heart to look the least bit sympathetic. Instead, he looked rather pleased with himself, almost blissful, like the kiss did something for him despite it only lasting for half a second. 

Liam felt no regret, turning from the blond then to try to catch up with Zayn. 

It was in his nature, to try to resolve an issue as soon as possible. He learned a thing or two after his time with Niall. Had he not have let the sadness claim him as it had, he could have gotten Niall back easily at the time. A simple apology and taking initiative would have done wonders. But, Niall wasn’t worth pursuing when he was the one that had hurt him. 

Zayn, on the other hand, never hurt him. Not like Niall. 

Which is why he found himself outside of Zayn’s home so late at night. 

Zayn had practically sprinted. Liam was a good fifteen minutes behind, even jogging, as he didn’t know the neighborhood too well, especially in the dark. 

Nothing mattered. He was going to fix everything. Or, suffer through trying. 

He knew Zayn was a night owl and indeed, there were some lights still on. Not that he would have somehow gone to bed in the short time of arriving home. 

Noises came from within, and Liam debated knocking on the door. 

If he were in Zayn’s position, no way would he want to be bothered. 

_Fuck it, I don’t care. I’m fixing this. We’re too good, or we were,_ Liam promised only himself. 

Frozen in front of the door for some time, he finds it unlocked, not quite shut. Liam focuses in on the sounds he’s hearing and goes pale. 

Moans. Laughter. Both from a woman that somehow sounds familiar. He can’t think long enough to try to place the voice, but he hears enough to understand that something is happening, something inside the walls. 

And then he hears a loud sigh or maybe a groan from Zayn and he can’t take it. 

He tries to rationalize, and nothing makes sense. Another moan, this one definitely Zayn, and it is laced with a sense of urgency. 

He barges in, right when Zayn devastatingly confesses, “Make me forget him. Please.” 

That’s when Liam sees them. 

Zayn on the couch… and Molly on top of him. 

They’re clothed. Or at least, Zayn is. And Molly, somewhat.

But, Liam’s out of there, retracing his steps immediately and slamming the door. 

He thinks he hears the sound of Zayn’s keys jingling behind him and has to laugh at even the idea of the thought. 

Whether he’s the one being left or doing the leaving, one thing is for sure, and Liam knows it. 

They never come back. They never come after him. 

*  
The next day he gets a phone call. 

“Liam? It’s Sara. Molly, uh, told me there would be no way you would willingly speak to her right now and that you probably wouldn’t want to talk to Zayn-“ 

He softly groans. Just the mention of the name has Liam itching to hang up, but doesn’t want to be rude. Everything hurts though. 

He’s interested in hearing what Sara has to say, sort of, why she would want to contact him. For a moment, he hopes she’s as mad as he is, and that they can bond over this shared betrayal or even have a moment of their own, to get revenge. 

He lets her continue. 

“…but he’s tearing himself apart and she got your number from him and asked me to do this. She swears nothing happened, though you have every right to be mad. I was livid when I heard, but I trust her and you should trust Zayn, okay? From what I was told, it was really a bunch of unfortunate misunderstandings. I don’t know either of you, but Molly does and her heart is hurting for you two. I didn’t want to know what Molly’s part was in all this, like, I know the basics, but not her intentions really and they probably don’t matter… but Zayn’s sure as hell do. Please, Liam. Go see him.” 

“I appreciate this, I do. But, I don’t think I can,” Liam can hear his own voice breaking, and he feels so weak, his heart so fragile while weighing so heavy. Zayn didn’t even have the courage to call him himself, not like he would have answered. 

“Liam, if you don’t do it for him, please do it for yourself. Molly has told me enough for me to know you deserve love,” Sara says with such conviction that it brings Liam to tears.  
He’s never had anyone on his side. It’s foreign and overwhelming. 

The call ends with a forced promise to get in touch with Zayn (eventually) and he stares at his phone for a while. He scrolls through his contacts, finding the one he wants and takes a deep breath. He hasn’t talked to them in a while, hasn’t seen them in what feels like forever. 

“Dad? Hi, um, tell mum I’m coming over today… I need to unload some stuff on you both.” After some time, he adds on, “I just need to be with you,” and there is a heaviness to every sentence he admits, and he lets go of each word helplessly. 

“Of course, son.” So much emotion packed into those three words, and Liam weeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for hanging in there and being so patient. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> We have Tumblrs!! Ask us things there!  
> [Hayley is here.](http://www.imprisonedbytheirlove.tumblr.com)  
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> 
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